down what I told her to--.

"Do you think that will do now?" I asked when it was complete.

"Yes."

Tea came in then for us both.--She poured it out, still without uttering
a word--she remembered my taste of no sugar or milk, and put the cup
near me so that I could reach it. She handed me the plate of those nasty
make-believe biscuits, which is all we can get now--then she drank her
own tea.

The atmosphere had grown so tense it was supremely uncomfortable. I felt
that I must break the ice.

"How I wish there was a piano here," I remarked _a propos_ of
nothing--and of course she greeted this, with her usual silence.

"I am feeling so rotten if I could hear some music it would make me
better."

She made the faintest movement with her head, to show me I suppose that
she was listening respectfully, but saw no occasion to reply.

I felt so unspeakably wretched and helpless and useless lying there, I
had not the pluck to go on trying to talk, so I closed my eye and lay
still, and then I heard Alathea rise and softly go towards the door--.

"I will type this at home--and return it to the flat on Tuesday if that
will be all right," she said--and: I answered:

"Thank you" and turned my face to the wall--And after a little, when she
had gone, Burton came in and gave me the medicine the Doctor had told
him to give me, he said--but I have a strong suspicion it was simply
asperine, for then I fell into a dreamy sleep and forgot my aching body
and my troubled mind.

And now I am much better in health again--and am back in Paris and
to-night Maurice, up from Deauville at last, is coming to dine with me.

But what is the good of it all?

XV

I was awfully glad to see old Maurice again--he was looking brown and
less dilettante--though his socks and tie and eyes matched as well as
ever! He congratulated me on the improvement in health in myself too,
and then he gave me all the news--.

Odette has been "painting the lily," and used some new skin tightener
which has disfigured her for the moment, and she has retired to the
family place near Bordeaux to weep until her complexion is restored
again--.

"Very unfortunate for her," Maurice said--"because she had nearly
secured a roving English peer who had enjoyed 'cushy' jobs during the
war, and had been recruiting from the fatigues of red-taping at
Deauville--and now, with this whisper of a spoiled skin, he had
transferred his attentions to Coralie--and there was