Christina was pale. "She wasn't to be married until tomorrow," she insisted. "Well, she's married. My dear, she looked awful. Teddy says--" "Oh, damn Teddy!" snapped Christina and was sorry. "I don't mean that, but I'm so used to damning your young men that I can't get out of the habit. Did they go away together--Steppe and she?" "No--she's gone back to the house with her father. Steppe--is he a man with black whiskers--well, he went alone." Christina kicked off her slippers determinedly. "I'm going to see her," she said. "What do you think you can do?" asked the scornful Evie. "Take my advice, Christina, never interfere between man and wife. Teddy says--" "I repeat anything I have already said about Teddy," remarked Christina. "Chuck over my shoes, Evie." She could not tell Beryl. She could tell nobody. Ronnie Morelle must be interpreted by those who saw. She strode out thanking God for life, and Ambrose Sault for the tingle of her soles upon the pavement. Spring was in the air, the park trees were studded with emerald buttons; some impatient bushes had even come fully into leaf before the season had begun. The sky was blue and carried white and majestic clouds; the birds were chattering noisily above her as she came through the park and the earth smelled good, as it only smells in spring when the awakening of life within its bosom releases a million peculiar odors that combine in one fragrant nidor. To Beryl's eyes the girl, with her peaked face and her flaming hair, was a vision of radiance. "So good of you--" Beryl was on the verge of a breakdown as Christina Colebrook put her arms about her shoulders. "So lovely of you, Christina--I wanted to see you. I hadn't the energy to move--or the heart." "Why today?" "Steppe knows everything. He insisted upon today. As well today as tomorrow. I am troubled about father. I feel that something dreadful is going to happen. He is so restless and he has asked John Maxton to come; John was a great friend of my mother's. In a way I'm almost glad that there is this other trouble hanging over us--that sounds cruel to poor daddy, but it does distract me from--thoughts." "What is this other trouble?" But Beryl shook her head. "I don't know. There has been some unpleasantness about a company father floated. Jan Steppe did it really, father is only a figurehead. He has had people to see him, people from the Public Prosecutor's office. He doesn't talk much about it to me, but I have a premonition that all is not well. But, Christina, I'm just whining and whining at you, poor girl!" "Whine," said Christina. "Go on whining. _I_ should scream! Beryl, my love, you have to do something for me, something to relieve my heart of a great unhappiness. I intended seeing you today--you had my letter?--well, I'm too late to stop you marrying. I thought I would be in time; but not too late to save your immortal soul." "What--?"