Fay paused. Jan stroked her hot, thin hand, but did not speak, and the tired, whispering voice went on: "_We_ were daylight people--Daddie was very daylight. There were never any mysteries; we all of us knew always where each of us was, and there were no secrets and no queer people coming for interviews, and it wouldn't have mattered very much if anyone _had_ opened one of our letters. Oh, it's such an _easy_ life in the daylight country...." "And in the twilight country?" asked Jan. "Ah, there it's very different. Everything is mysterious. You never know where anyone has gone, and if he's away queer people--quite horrid people--come and ask for him and won't go away, and sit in the verandah and cheek the butler and the boy and insist on seeing the 'memsahib,' and when she screws up her courage and goes to them, they ask for money, and show dirty bits of paper and threaten, and it's all awful--till somebody like Peter comes and kicks them out, and then they simply fly." In spite of her irritation at being beholden to him, Jan began to feel grateful to Peter. "Sometimes," Fay continued, "I think it would be easier to be a night person. They've no appearances to keep up. You see, what makes it so difficult for the twilight people is that they _want_ to live in the daylight, and it's too strong for them. All the night people whom they know--and if you're twilight you know lots of 'em--come and drag them back. _They_ don't care. They rather like to go right in among the daylight folk and scare and shock them, and make them uncomfortable. You _can't_ suffer in the same way when you've gone under altogether." "But, Fay dear," Jan interposed, "you talk as though the twilight people couldn't help it...." "They can't--they truly can't." "But surely there's right and wrong, straightness and crookedness, and no one _need_ be crooked." "People like you needn't--but everybody isn't strong like that. Hugo says every man has his price, and every woman too--Peter says so, too." "Then Peter ought to be ashamed of himself. Do you suppose _he_ has his price?" "No, not in that way. He'd think it silly to be pettifogging and dishonest about money, or to go in for mad speculations run by shady companies; but he wouldn't think it _extraordinary_ like you." "I'm afraid my education has been neglected. A great many things seem extraordinary to me." "You think it funny I should be living in Peter's flat, waited on by Peter's servants--but what else could I do?" Jan smiled in the darkness. She saw where her niece had got "what nelse?" "Isn't it just a little--unusual?" she asked gently. "Is there no money at all, Fay? What has become of all your own?" "It's not all gone," Fay said eagerly. "I think there's nearly two thousand pounds left, but Peter made me write home--that was at Dariawarpur, before he came down here--and say no more was to be sent out, not even if I wrote myself to ask for it--and _he_ wrote to Mr. Davidson too----"