ry largely my fault; but
the press of work is over now, and I shall be able to give more time and
care to her.'

'You will find it advisable,' said Laurent, with a certain meaning in
his face and voice which Paul at the moment could not fathom.

Something occurred to put an end to their conversation, and it was not
resumed before Paul's departure with Darco for London. When it came to
the point Annette flatly refused to go to England. She averred that
she was not strong enough to travel, that she was altogether better and
happier where she was than she hoped to be elsewhere.

'You will be back in a month's time,' she urged. 'You will be busy all
the while you are away. The theatre will claim you day and night, and
I should be moping in some great hotel without a soul to speak to. I am
quite at home amongst the people here, and they are used to me and to my
ways.'

Paul urged Laurent's suggestion upon her, and she received it with an
unexpected anger.

'What? A companion? And may I ask you why?'

'For no other earthly reason than that you should have a friend at
hand--somebody who might on occasion be useful to you.'

'Oh no,' said Annette, tossing her head, and then looking askance at
him, with half-veiled eyes: 'you would like to have me watched and spied
upon, and to have a report of my conduct sent to you, as if I were a
prisoner or a maniac.'

'My dear child,' said Paul, in sheer amazement, 'what extraordinary
dream is this? What has put so strange a fancy in your mind?'

'Tell me,' cried Annette, suddenly whirling round upon him, 'what is it
you suspect? What intrigue? What plot? What secret?'

'Come, come,' he said, 'there is no plot--no secret But you know that
you are not quite yourself of late, and it is not right or kind to leave
you here in your present delicate health without some responsible person
to look after you.'

'Has M. Laurent been poisoning your mind against me?' she demanded, with
a curious slowness. She advanced a foot as she spoke, and moved forward
towards him with a something between fear and anger in her eyes.

'My dear child,' he answered, 'what strange illusions are you nursing?
Intrigues and plots, and watching and reports! Don't believe in any such
nonsense, I implore you.'

'What has Laurent been telling you about me? I insist--I _will_ know.'

'Laurent has been telling me that he thinks you are likely to find a
change beneficial, and that you ought not to be left here a