n took possession of her pen. She bitterly
reproached herself for having spoken to me of Madame Brandt. Had she
known how passionate and real was this attachment, she would never have
interfered. The boy was broken-hearted. He accused me of having
stolen her from him--his own words. He took little interest in his
electioneering campaign, spoke badly, unconvincingly; spent hours in
alternate fits of listlessness and anger. She feared for her darling's
health and reason. She made an appeal to me who professed to love
him--if it were honourably possible, would I bring Madame Brandt back to
him? She was willing now to accept Dale's estimate of her worth. Could
I, at the least, prevail on Madame Brandt to give him some hope--of what
she did not know--but some hope that would save him from ruining his
career and "doing something desperate"?

And another letter from Dale:

". . . I can't work at this election. For God's sake, give her back to
me. Then I won't care. What is Parliament to me without her? And the
election is as good as lost already. The other side has made as much as
possible of the scandal. . . ."

The only letters that have not been misery to read have come from
Eleanor Faversham. There was one passage which made me thank God that He
had created such women as Eleanor--

"Don't fret over the newspaper lies, dear. Those who love you--and why
shouldn't I love you still?--know the honourable gentleman that you are.
Write to me if it would ease your heart and tell me just what you feel
you can. Now and always you have my utter sympathy and understanding."

And this is the woman of whose thousand virtues I dared to speak in
flippant jest.

Heaven forgive me.

After receiving Lady Kynnersley's appeal, I went to Lola. It was just
before the case came on at the Cour d'Assises. She had finished luncheon
in her private room and was sitting over her coffee. I joined her. She
wore the black blouse and skirt with which I have not yet been able
to grow familiar, as it robbed her of the peculiar fascinating quality
which I have tried to suggest by the word pantherine. Coffee over, we
moved to the window which opened on a little back garden--the room was
on the ground floor--in which grew prickly pear and mimosa, and newly
flowering heliotrope. I don't know why I should mention this, except
that some scenes impress themselves, for no particular reason, on the
memory, while others associated with more important incidents