"It is always 'a few more days,' monsieur," she said. "My mother will permit you to take your necessaries for the few days, and the things belonging to the little one. No more." "Can I see her?" inquired Kent, rather pale. "Oh yes; she is in the bureau." "The servants can hear everything that goes on in the bureau," he demurred. "Can't I talk to her in her room?" Mademoiselle Garin preceded him there, and he tried his best to wring consent from the old woman, but she was as hard as nails, and would not listen for long. An "acknowledgment of the debt," certainly--the lawyer had advised that, too, and he would prepare it--but their luggage, jamais de la vie! The baby's box, and the bassinet; and for madame Kent and himself such articles as were indispensable for one week. She would agree to nothing else. Cynthia was upstairs, playing with the baby, and Kent went in and shut the door that communicated with the nursery. "What is it?" she asked, after a glance at his face. He wondered if he could soften the news, but it did not lend itself to euphemisms. He told it to her in as light a tone as he could acquire. "It won't be for any length of time, and we can easily make shift for a bit," he said. "It isn't as if the child's things had to be left behind, you see. A handbag will hold all we really need for ourselves. What do we want, after all, for a week? It isn't a serious matter, if one comes to look at it. It sounds worse than it is, I think." She sat startled and still. Then she cuddled the baby close, and forced a smile. "My brown frock will do," she assented; "I shall go in that! Oh, it isn't so dreadful, no. Of course, just for a moment it does give one a shock, doesn't it? But--but, as you say, it sounds worse than it is. Were they nasty to you?" "The old lady wasn't very affectionate; the girl wasn't so bad. It's cussed awkward, darling, I know. Poor little woman! I was funking telling you like anything. It took me ten minutes coming up those stairs, and I nearly went out for a walk first." She laughed; she was already quite brave again. "We shall get through it all right," she said. "Where shall we go? We might go back to the hotel where we stayed first, mightn't we? We paid there." "I thought of that," he replied; "but it was rather dear, wasn't it? We had better spend as little a possible; there are our passages, and we mustn't arrive in London with nothing. I'm afraid we shan't be able to get your ring out in any case." "That can't be helped. I'm sorrier about your watch and chain. A man is so lost without a watch. Saturday? Saturday will be mi-carême, won't it? We shall celebrate it nicely.... Oh!" She sat upright, and stared at him with frightened eyes. "Humphrey--Nurse!" His jaw dropped, and he looked back at her blankly. "I'd forgotten her," he said. "To see our luggage detained--it could only mean the one thing! Humphrey, what would she think? What can we do? She mustn't, mustn't know; I should die of shame."