She seized hold of her writing-case, sat down and scribbled off two hasty notes which she handed to Thorold to read before she placed them in their envelopes. "DEAR MRS. ST. LUCAS,— "I hope you were not anxious about me. I would have explained had you been home. I have had enough of town life. Your brother and I have had words—I don't feel I care about being with him any more. I have played for him at his two big Recitals, and that is all I came up for. I shall never change my mind, but I thank you for your kind hospitality and hope you will enjoy Vienna. Please send my luggage to Mrs. Wharnecliffe and forgive my hasty departure. "Yours gratefully, "GENTIAN BRENDON." "DEAR MR. BUCHAN,— "I feel you will have given your sister an explanation of my disappearance. Please do not think that all girls are alike, and that I understand such talk and behaviour as yours. Your letter is offensive to me. What have I done to make you write in such a style? I hope we shall never meet again. I should have been happier if I had never known you. "I can't describe myself anything but a disgusted and disillusioned acquaintance, "GENTIAN BRENDON." Thorold handed them back to her with a very grave face. "Well, you don't approve of them?" "I think you might write to him differently. With a little more dignity. After all, he may have only expressed what he felt for you—you are too severe." "Oh, men always side with men." "I am trying to be just and fair," said Thorold. "Give his note back to me." Gentian tore it to pieces, then dashed off another epistle. "DEAR MR. BUCHAN,— "I am sorry that I felt obliged to come away from town. Your attitude lately has stopped our friendly intercourse, and I think it wiser to end my visit to your sister. "Thanking you for all your past kindness, "Yours sincerely, "GENTIAN BRENDON." "That is better," was Thorold's comment. "Now we'll post these at once, and get them off our mind. There's a train we can catch in an hour's time. The doctor wants to see you once more. I see him coming along the road now." "Oh, I don't want doctors," said Gentian impatiently. But she was persuaded to see him, and he was able to bandage her wrist afresh. "You want a good rest. Your nerves are overstrained," he told her. "Why will you young people burn the candle at both ends! Then if illness or accident comes, you have no resisting force to overcome them." "I consider I've weathered through my accident in splendid fashion," she said. He shook his head. "Your pulse does not tell me so. Take it quietly. You will feel your bruises for some days, but you have had a wonderful escape." In an hour's time Gentian was sitting opposite Thorold in a railway carriage.