lustrated
weeklies. The luxurious trip had cost several hundreds of pounds,
but it was war expenditure, and, moreover, Concepcion had come into
considerable sums of money through her deceased husband. Her return to
Britain had never been published. Advertisements of Concepcion ceased.
Only a few friends knew that she was in the most active retirement on
the Clyde. G.J. had written to her twice but had obtained no replies.
One fact he knew, that she had not had a child. Lady Queenie had not
mentioned her; it was understood that the inseparables had quarrelled
in the heroic manner and separated for ever.

She entered the boudoir slowly. G.J. grew self-conscious, as it were
because she was still the martyr of destiny and he was not. She wore a
lavender-tinted gown of Queen's; he knew it was Queen's because he had
seen precisely such a gown on Queen, and there could not possibly
be another gown precisely like that very challenging gown. It suited
Queen, but it did not suit Concepcion. She looked older; she was
thirty-two, and might have been taken for thirty-five. She was
very pale, with immense fatigued eyes; but her ridiculous nose had
preserved all its originality. And she had the same slightly masculine
air--perhaps somewhat intensified--with an added dignity. And G.J.
thought: "She is as mysterious and unfathomable as I am myself." And
he was impressed and perturbed.

With a faint, sardonic smile, glancing at him as a physical equal
from her unusual height (she was as tall as Lady Queenie), she said
abruptly and casually:

"Am I changed?"

"No," he replied as abruptly and casually, clasping almost inimically
her ringed hand--she was wearing Queenie's rings. "But you're tired.
The journey, I suppose."

"It's not that. We sat up till five o'clock this morning, talking."

"Who?"

"Queen and I."

"What did you do that for?"

"Well, you see, we'd had the devil's own row--" She stopped, leaving
his imagination to complete the picture of the meeting and the night
talk.

He smiled awkwardly--tried to be paternal, and failed.

"What about?"

"She never wanted me to leave London. I came back last night with only
a handbag just as she was going out to dinner. She didn't go out to
dinner. Queen is a white woman. Nobody knows how white Queen is. I
didn't know myself until last night."

There was a pause. G.J. said:

"I had an appointment here with the white woman, on business."

"Yes, I know," said Concepcion