rom the way you speak of it, I
think you would come after us; and the more I think of that, the more
I see it would n't do. But we have got to go to some southern place,
because I am very unwell. I have n't the least idea what 's the matter
with me, and neither has any one else; but that does n't make any
difference. It 's settled that I am out of health. One might as well
be out of it as in it, for all the advantage it is. If you are out of
health, at any rate you can come abroad. It was Gordon's discovery--he
's always making discoveries. You see it 's because I 'm so silly; he
can always put it down to my being an invalid. What I should like to do,
Mrs. Vivian, would be to spend the winter with you--just sitting on the
sofa beside you and holding your hand. It would be rather tiresome for
you; but I really think it would be better for me than anything else.
I have never forgotten how kind you were to me before my marriage--that
summer at Baden. You were everything to me--you and Captain Lovelock. I
am sure I should be happy if I never went out of this lovely room. You
have got it so beautifully arranged--I mean to do my own room just like
it when I go home. And you have got such lovely clothes. You never used
to say anything about it, but you and Angela always had better clothes
than I. Are you always so quiet and serious--never talking about
chiffons--always reading some wonderful book? I wish you would let
me come and stay with you. If you only ask me, Gordon would be too
delighted. He would n't have to trouble about me any more. He could go
and live over in the Latin Quarter--that 's the desire of his heart--and
think of nothing but old bottles. I know it is n't very good manners
to beg for an invitation," Blanche went on, smiling with a gentler
radiance; "but when it 's a question of one's health. One wants to keep
one's self alive--does n't one? One wants to keep one's self going. It
would be so good for me, Mrs. Vivian; it would really be very good for
me!"

She had turned round more and more to her hostess as she talked; and at
last she had given both her hands to Mrs. Vivian, and sat looking at her
with a singular mixture of earnestness and jocosity. It was hard to know
whether Blanche were expressing a real desire or a momentary caprice,
and whether this abrupt little petition were to be taken seriously, or
treated merely as a dramatic pose in a series of more or less effective
attitudes. Her smile had becom