straying about the world alone; and
since it was by Nick's choice, why should she not say so? Remembering
the burning anguish of those last hours in Venice she asked herself what
possible consideration she owed to the man who had so humbled her.

Ellie Vanderlyn glanced at her in astonishment. "You? You and Nick--are
going to part?" A light appeared to dawn on her. "Ah--then that's why he
sent me back my pin, I suppose?"

"Your pin?" Susy wondered, not at once remembering.

"The poor little scarf-pin I gave him before I left Venice. He sent it
back almost at once, with the oddest note--just: 'I haven't earned it,
really.' I couldn't think why he didn't care for the pin. But, now I
suppose it was because you and he had quarrelled; though really, even
so, I can't see why he should bear me a grudge...."

Susy's quick blood surged up. Nick had sent back the pin-the fatal pin!
And she, Susy, had kept the bracelet--locked it up out of sight, shrunk
away from the little packet whenever her hand touched it in packing or
unpacking--but never thought of returning it, no, not once! Which of the
two, she wondered, had been right? Was it not an indirect slight to her
that Nick should fling back the gift to poor uncomprehending Ellie? Or
was it not rather another proof of his finer moral sensitiveness!...
And how could one tell, in their bewildering world, "It was not because
we've quarrelled; we haven't quarrelled," she said slowly, moved by the
sudden desire to defend her privacy and Nick's, to screen from every
eye their last bitter hour together. "We've simply decided that our
experiment was impossible-for two paupers."

"Ah, well--of course we all felt that at the time. And now somebody else
wants to marry you! And it's your trousseau you were choosing that cloak
for?" Ellie cried in incredulous rapture; then she flung her arms about
Susy's shrinking shoulders. "You lucky lucky girl! You clever clever
darling! But who on earth can he be?"

And it was then that Susy, for the first time, had pronounced the name
of Lord Altringham.

"Streff--Streff? Our dear old Streff, You mean to say he wants to marry
you?" As the news took possession of her mind Ellie became dithyrambic.
"But, my dearest, what a miracle of luck! Of course I always knew he
was awfully gone on you: Fred Davenant used to say so, I remember... and
even Nelson, who's so stupid about such things, noticed it in Venice....
But then it was so different. No one cou