sion. She drenched her handkerchief,
gargled her throat, and, armed with her little case of remedies, knocked
at the door near by. A languid voice answered her and she entered.

The room was lighted by two candles that stood on the mantelpiece, and
the bed in its alcove was dim. Tossed clothes lay on the chairs; a
battered box stood open, its tray lying on the floor; the dressing-table
was in confusion, and the scent of cigarette smoke mingled with that of
a tall white lily that was placed in a vase on a little table beside the
bed. To the well-maided Althea the disorder was appalling, yet it
expressed, too, something of charm. The invalid lay plunged in her
pillows, her dark hair tossed above her head, and, as Althea approached,
she did not unclose her eyes.

'Oh, I beg your pardon,' said Althea, feeling some trepidation. 'My maid
told me that you were ill--that you had influenza, and I know just what
to do for it. May I give you some medicine? I do hope I have not waked
you up,' for the invalid was now looking at her with some astonishment.

'No; I wasn't asleep. How very kind of you. I thought it was the
chambermaid,' she said. 'Forgive me for seeming so rude.'

Her eyes were more dazed than ever, and she more mysterious, with her
unbound hair.

'You oughtn't to lie with your arms outside the covers like that,' said
Althea. 'It's most important not to get chilled. I'm afraid you don't
know how to take care of yourself.' She smiled a little, gentle and
assured, though inwardly with still a tremor; and she drew the clothes
about the invalid, who had relapsed passively on to her pillows.

'I'm afraid I don't. How very kind of you!' she murmured again.

Althea brought a glass of water and, selecting her little bottle, poured
out the proper number of drops. 'You were feeling ill last night,
weren't you?' she said, after the dose had been swallowed. 'I thought
that you looked ill.'

'Last night?'

'Yes, don't you remember? I sat next you in the dining-room.'

'Oh yes; of course, of course! I remember now. You had this dress on; I
noticed all the little silver tassels. Yes, I've been feeling wretched
for several days; I've done hardly anything--no shopping, no
sight-seeing, and I ought to be back in London to-morrow; but I suppose
I'll have to stay in bed for a week; it's very tiresome.' She spoke
wearily, yet in decisive little sentences, and her voice, its hardness
and its liquid intonations, made Althea think