an assassin's knife.

Her thoughts were stirred from the fact that, while out that morning,
Mme. Garnier, from whom she purchased her vegetables daily, had given
her a marguerite. This she wore in the breast of her gown, and its sight
caused her to reflect that on that never-to-be-forgotten afternoon at
Mundesley, when she had walked with Harborne, he, too, had given her a
similar flower. Perfumes and flowers always stir our memories of the
past!

She sat gazing out into the little moss-grown courtyard below, watching
for Ralph's coming. That quarter of Paris was a poor one, inhabited
mainly by artisans, yet the house was somewhat secluded, situated as it
was in a big square courtyard away from the main thoroughfare. Because
it was quiet, Ralph had taken it, and further, because Mme. Brouet, the
_concierge_, a sharp-faced, middle-aged woman, wife of a cobbler, who
habitually wore a small black knitted shawl, happened to be an
acquaintance of his.

But, alas! the place was dismal enough. The outlook was upon a high,
blank, dirty wall, while below, among the stones, grass and rank weeds
grew everywhere.

The living room in which the girl sat was poor and comfortless, though
she industriously kept the place clean. It was papered gaudily with
broad stripes, while the furniture consisted of a cheap little walnut
sideboard, upon which stood a photograph in a frame, a decanter, a china
sugar-bowl, and some plates, while near it was a painted, movable
cupboard on which stood a paraffin lamp with green cardboard shade, and
a small fancy timepiece, which was out of order and had stopped.

In the centre of the room was a round table, upon which was a white
cloth with blue border and places laid for two, and four rush-bottomed
chairs placed upon the square of Japanese matting covering the centre
of the room completed the picture.

Jean laid aside her needlework--mending one of Ralph's shirts--and
sighed over the might-have-been.

"I wonder what it all means?" she asked herself aloud. "I wonder what
mysterious business Ralph has so constantly with Adolphe? And why does
Mme. Brouet inquire so anxiously after Ralph every day?"

For the past fortnight her husband, whose clothes had now become very
shabby, had given her only a few francs each day, just sufficient with
which to buy food. Hitherto he had taken her out for walks after dusk,
and sometimes they had gone to a cinema or to one of the cheaper
music-halls. But, alas!