Miss Sinquier stirred impatiently. Wretch—! to deliver at the Palace before the Deanery, when the Deanery was as near! “Shower down over there, Oh Lord, ten thousand fearsome bills,” extemporaneously she prayed, “and spare them not at all; Amen.” Hierarchic hands shot upwards. Dull skies. She waited. Through the Palace gates, at length, the fellow lurched, sorting as he came. “Dolt!” Her eyes devoured his bag. Coiled round and round like some sleek snake her future slumbered in it. Husband; lovers ... little lives, perhaps—yet to be ... besides voyages, bouquets, diamonds, chocolates, duels, casinos...! She shivered. “Anything for me, Hodge, to-day,” she inquired, “by chance?” “A fine morning, Miss.” “Unusually.” It had come.... That large mauve envelope, with the wild handwriting, and the haunting scent, was from _her._ As she whisked away her heart throbbed fast. Through the light spring foliage she could see her father, with folded hands, pacing meditatively to and fro before the front of the house. “Humbug!” she murmured, darting down a gravel path towards the tradesmen’s door. Regaining her room, she promptly undid the seal. “_Panvale Priory, Shaftesbury Avenue,_ “_London, W._ “Mrs. Albert Bromley presents her compliments to Miss S. Sinquier and will be pleased to offer her her experience and advice on Thursday morning next at the hour Miss Sinquier names. “P.S. Mrs. Bromley already feels a parent’s sympathetic interest in Miss Sinquier. Is she dark or fair...? Does she shape for Lady Macbeth or is she a Lady Teazle?” “Both!” Miss Sinquier gurgled, turning a deft somersault before the glass. To keep the appointment, without being rushed, she would be obliged to set out, essentially baggageless, to-night—a few requisites merely, looped together and concealed beneath her dress, would be the utmost she could manage. “A lump here and a lump there!” she breathed, “and I can unburden myself in the train.” “Okh!” She peeped within her purse. ... And there was Godmother’s chain that she would sell! It should bring grist; perhaps close on a thousand pounds. Misericordia: to be compelled to part with it! Opening a levant-covered box, she drew out a long flat tray. Adorable pearls. How clearly now they brought her Godmother to mind ... a little old body ... with improbable cherry-cheeks, and excrescent upper lip, with always the miniatures of her three deceased husbands clinging about one arm.... ‘Aren’t they pleasant?’ she would say proudly every now and then.... What talks they had had; and sometimes of an evening through the mauve moonlight they would strut together. Ah! She had been almost ugly then; clumsy, gawky, _gauche._... Now that she was leaving Applethorp, for ever perhaps, how dormant impressions revived!