Mrs. Bowen sat before the hearth in her _salon_, with her hands fallen in her lap. At thirty-eight the emotions engrave themselves more deeply in the face than they do in our first youth, or than they will when we have really aged, and the pretty woman looked haggard. Imogene came in, wearing a long blue robe, flung on as if with desperate haste; her thick hair fell crazily out of a careless knot, down her back. "I couldn't sleep," she said, with quivering lips, at the sight of which Mrs. Bowen's involuntary smile hardened. "Isn't it eleven yet?" she added, with a glance at the clock. "It seems years since I went to bed." "It's been a long day," Mrs. Bowen admitted. She did not ask Imogene why she could not sleep, perhaps because she knew already, and was too honest to affect ignorance. The girl dropped into a chair opposite her, and began to pull her fingers through the long tangle of her hair, while she drew her breath in sighs that broke at times on her lips; some tears fell down her cheeks unheeded. "Mrs. Bowen," she said, at length, "I should like to know what right we have to drive any one from Florence? I should think people would call it rather a high-handed proceeding if it were known." Mrs. Bowen met this feebleness promptly. "It isn't likely to be known. But we are not driving Mr. Colville away." "He is going." "Yes; he said he would go." "Don't you believe he will go?" "I believe he will do what he says." "He has been very kind to us all; he has been as _good!_" "No one feels that more than I," said Mrs. Bowen, with a slight tremor in her voice. She faltered a moment. "I can't let you say those things to me, Imogene." "No; I know it's wrong. I didn't know what I was saying. Oh, I wish I could tell what I ought to do! I wish I could make up my mind. Oh, I can't let him go--_so_. I--I don't know what to think any more. Once it was clear, but now I'm not sure; no, I'm not sure." "Not sure about what?" "I think I am the one to go away, if any one." "You know you can't go away," said Mrs. Bowen, with weary patience. "No, of course not. Well, I shall never see any one like him." Mrs. Bowen made a start in her chair, as if she had no longer the power to remain quiet, but only placed herself a little more rigidly in it.