“Because Carl is so poor. Oh, Gabrielle! Gabrielle!” and, the tension passed, Zai throws herself down on Baby’s favourite hearth-rug and sobs as if her heart would burst. “What an awful, _awful_ thing money is!” “The _want_ of it, you mean! But that man Conway knew he was poor always. Why did he ever spoon you as he has done?” “He loved me so--he could not help it!” Zai says tenderly, “And we love each other dreadfully--_dreadfully_--still, but he thinks I should suffer so if I did not have the luxury I have been accustomed to all my life!” “And he does not think about himself, poor dear unselfish fellow!” Gabrielle says with a little sneer. “Zai, take my advice, and don’t waste another thought on him. He is going to marry Miss Meredyth for her money, let him, and don’t let Miss Meredyth have the pleasure of seeing that you envy her her husband!” “I must try and forget Carl,” Zai murmurs feebly. “It would be a sin to love him when he is married, but I don’t know how to begin. He seems to run in my head and my heart so!” “Let some other _genus homo_ turn him out of them. There’s heaps of eligibles about. Lord Walsingham, for instance, he is young, good-looking and tolerably well off.” “Why he squints, Gabrielle! and has red hair!” Zai protests mildly. “Never mind. What does it matter whether one’s husband has red hair and a squint? All one wants is a nice house, and fine carriages and horses, plenty of diamonds etc. Is there no other man you know who could make you forget that actor fellow?” “No one!” Zai blushes crimson. There is meaning lurking in Gabrielle’s manner and eyes, although her words are simple enough, and she remembers that this step-sister of hers has resolved to win Lord Delaval for herself. Let her, Zai thinks; she has never felt so much distaste to accepting Lord Delaval’s offer as she does at this moment, when her heart is so sore and her spirit so humiliated. “I won’t cry any more!” she exclaims, feigning to be indifferent, but in reality anxious to change the subject. “I must look well before the Royalties to-night, you know! The Prince was very nice to me at Caryllon House, and said I was the belle of the room! What are you going to wear, Gabrielle?” “Black lace--and you, I suppose, are going to wear sackcloth and ashes!” “No I am not!” Zai answers lightly. “Mamma coaxed Swaebe out of another six months’ credit, and so Trixy and Baby and I have loves of pale blue faille and white illusion, and water lilies trailing all over us. I want to look beautiful to-night for a reason. “What reason?” Gabrielle asks, suspiciously. “Only because---- But no; it’s a secret for the present.” And Zai, running out hastily, rushes up to her bedroom, and, double locking her door, cries to her heart’s content.