, she'll be delighted. That's just what I wanted, isn't it,
darling? Mrs. MacEwen... I'll be back here in an hour... or less... I'll--"

Mrs. R. dashed up the steps. I saw her bag was open again.

So we three were left. But really it wasn't my fault. Hennie looked
crushed to the earth, too. When the car was there she wrapped her dark
coat round her--to escape contamination. Even her little feet looked as
though they scorned to carry her down the steps to us.

"I am so awfully sorry," I murmured as the car started.

"Oh, I don't mind," said she. "I don't want to look twenty-one. Who
would--if they were seventeen! It's"--and she gave a faint shudder--"the
stupidity I loathe, and being stared at by old fat men. Beasts!"

Hennie gave her a quick look and then peered out of the window.

We drew up before an immense palace of pink-and-white marble with
orange-trees outside the doors in gold-and-black tubs.

"Would you care to go in?" I suggested.

She hesitated, glanced, bit her lip, and resigned herself. "Oh well,
there seems nowhere else," said she. "Get out, Hennie."

I went first--to find the table, of course--she followed. But the worst
of it was having her little brother, who was only twelve, with us. That
was the last, final straw--having that child, trailing at her heels.

There was one table. It had pink carnations and pink plates with little
blue tea-napkins for sails.

"Shall we sit here?"

She put her hand wearily on the back of a white wicker chair.

"We may as well. Why not?" said she.

Hennie squeezed past her and wriggled on to a stool at the end. He felt
awfully out of it. She didn't even take her gloves off. She lowered her
eyes and drummed on the table. When a faint violin sounded she winced
and bit her lip again. Silence.

The waitress appeared. I hardly dared to ask her. "Tea--coffee? China
tea--or iced tea with lemon?"

Really she didn't mind. It was all the same to her. She didn't really
want anything. Hennie whispered, "Chocolate!"

But just as the waitress turned away she cried out carelessly, "Oh, you
may as well bring me a chocolate, too."

While we waited she took out a little, gold powder-box with a mirror in
the lid, shook the poor little puff as though she loathed it, and dabbed
her lovely nose.

"Hennie," she said, "take those flowers away." She pointed with her puff
to the carnations, and I heard her murmur, "I can't bear flowers on
a table." They had evidently been givin