Mrs. Russell looked at her, then at Angelica. They both had their professional manners, polite, deeply interested, but firm. There was no mercy to be had from them. She ordered the gown; then she bought a "sports hat" of Angelica for a staggering sum, and prepared to take her leave. But now Miss Sillon came in, pleasant and businesslike. "I’d be very pleased to make you a ten per cent discount, madam," she said; "or for any one personally introduced by our Miss Kennedy." "Oh, Sillon!" said Angelica, when she had gone. "Wasn’t that nice of you? You can’t imagine how anything like that pleases her." "Angélique, my child, we’d do more than that for you," said Sillon. III "Telephone, Mlle. Angélique!" cried Devery. "Would you mind asking who? I’ve just got this thing pinned." "It’s Mrs. Geraldine," Devery called. "Can’t you come?" Angelica’s heart stood still. "_This_ is it!" she thought. "Now it’s come!" She went with leaden feet to the telephone in the back room, and sat down before it. She stared at the instrument for an instant in horror. What was it about to reveal? She took up the receiver. "Yes!" she said. "Is this you, Mrs. Geraldine?" "Can you come to see me?" said that well-known voice. "There’s something----” "_Why?_" she cried. "What is it? Is anything wrong?" "The baby’s quite well; but there’s a piece of news you ought to know." "Oh!" she gasped. "Oh, tell me! What?" "Don’t lose your head, Angelica; but come when you can. I’ll be in all the afternoon. And don’t worry. It’s only that I think you ought to know before all the others." She didn’t wait to hear the rest. She left the telephone and turned to her friends a distracted and blanched face. "I’ve got to go!" she said. "Is anything wrong?" asked Sillon kindly, alarmed by her look. "Yes! I’ve got to go!" "Can’t I go with you?" "No, no, no!" Angelica was pinning on her hat, without even a glance in the mirror, and was starting out when Devery stopped her. "Your bag!" she said. "Or are you coming back to-day?" "Never!" she cried. "Never!" They stood together watching her go. "Poor kid!" said Devery. "It must be something _very_ wrong!" Angelica was out of sight, hurrying along the street, trembling with eagerness to embrace this anguish, to get it over, to be done with her torment. She rang Polly’s bell, and Polly herself admitted her visitor. She looked ill and haggard, with eyes heavy and dull, and reddened with sleeplessness--or was it with tears? "Come in," she said pleasantly. "Sit down, Angelica. Will you have a cup of tea?" "Oh, _no_!" she cried. "Hurry up and tell me! They all know it? Eddie’s written! Oh, Mrs. Geraldine, I knew right away! Eddie’s written to say that Vincent’s told him. Oh, my God! He said he would, and he has! That’s what he went for. Oh, my God! All my life ruined! Oh, Mrs. Geraldine!"