After lunch I suggested as it had cleared up that we should go at least as far as the parterre, and sit under the shadow of the terrace--the flower beds are full of beans now--their ancient glories departed. Miss Sharp followed my bath chair,--and with extreme diligence kept me to the re-arranging of the first chapter. For an hour I watched her darling small face whenever I could. A sense of peace was upon me. We were certainly on the first rung of the ladder of friendship--and presently--presently--If only I could keep from annoying her in any way! When we had finished our task she rose--. "If you don't mind, as it is Saturday I have promised Burton"--and she looked at him, seated on a chair beyond earshot enjoying the sun--"to do up the accounts and prepare the cheques for you to sign--. So I will go in now and begin." I wanted to say "Damn the accounts"--but I let her go--I must play the tortoise in this game, not the hare. She smiled faintly--the third smile--as she made me a little bow, and walked off. After a few paces she came back again. "May I ask Burton for the bread ticket I lent you on Thursday," she said--"No one can afford to be generous with them now, can they!" I was delighted at this. I would have been delighted at anything which kept her with me an extra minute. I watched her as she disappeared down towards the Reservoirs with longing eyes, then I must have dozed for a while, because it was a quarter to five when I got back to my sitting-room. And when I was safely in my chair there was a knock on the door, and in she came--with a cheque-book in her hand. Before I opened it or even took it up I knew something had happened which had changed her again. Her manner had its old icy respect as of a person employed, all the friendliness which had been growing in the last two or three days had completely departed. I could not imagine why--. She put the cheque-book open, and handed me a pen to sign with, and then I signed the dozen that she had filled in, and tore them off as I did so. She was silent, and when I had finished she took them, saying casually that she would bring the corrected chapter typed again on Tuesday, and was now going to catch her train--and before I could reply, she had gone into the other room--. A frightful sense of depression fell upon me--What could it possibly be--? Idly I picked up the cheque-book--and absently fingered the leaves--then my eye caught a counterfoil where I had chanced to open it. It was not in Miss Sharp's handwriting, although this was the house cheque-book which Burton usually keeps, but in my own and there was written, just casually as I scribble in my private account.--"For Suzette 5000 francs" and the date of last Saturday--and on turning the page there was the further one of "For Suzette 3000 francs" and the date of Monday!! The irony of fate!--I had picked this cheque-book up inadvertently I suppose on these two days instead of my own. X