But when the maid told her through the door that the visitor was Signorina Gabrie, Regina rushed to the window and called to the girl, who was just issuing from the house. Gabrie came back. Regina at once repented that she had recalled her. She saw she had been moved to do so by an impulse of despairing curiosity. The student, finding her note-books in disorder, probably suspected Regina had read them; now she had perhaps come in alarm to make excuses for the horrors she had written. A few questions would be enough---- But Regina quickly recovered her proud dignity. No, never! Neither of Gabrie nor of any one would she ask that which it concerned her to know. Gabrie came in, colourless in her loose black jacket. She was not well; she coughed. Her eyes, however, had kept their cruel brilliance, sharp and shining like needles. Regina felt afraid of this terrible girl. The future authoress seemed already mistress of a power of divination superior to every other human faculty. She would read her friend's thoughts through her forehead! But the fear only lasted a moment. Gabrie was nothing! Just a little tattler--despicable! "I was dressing to go out; that's why I said 'Not at home.' Are you cured? I went to see you this morning." "I know, thanks. Yes, I am better. Go on dressing. I won't sit down. How's Caterina?" "She's gone out," said Regina, smoothing her hair at the wardrobe mirror. "Go on dressing," repeated Gabrie. "I'm sorry to be delaying you." Regina began to dress. She did not know where she was going, but she would certainly go out just to get rid of Gabrie. "Shall I help?" asked the girl. "Yes, please. Hook the collar. Oh, these collars! What a torment they are! One wants a maid just for these precious collars!" "Haven't you got one?" said Gabrie, dryly, fastening the collar. "That girl? She's a mere scrub." "Patience! Hold still a moment! How on earth can you wear such a collar? Well, really, women _are_ the victims of fashion!" Regina felt Gabrie's slim, cold fingers on her neck. The gold-embroidered collar, which reached to her very ears, choked her. She turned round, flushed and angry. Was she angry with Gabrie or with the collar? She did not know, but she flew out at Gabrie. "_Women!_ Aren't you a woman yourself, pray? Be so kind as to drop that tone. I can't endure it!" "I know you can't," said the other meekly. "But is that my fault?" Regina looked at her while she held her breath, fastening the overtight bodice. What did Gabrie mean? Had her words some occult signification? "How old are you?" "Why do you ask? I'm twenty. Why?" "Really?" "Really. Why should I hide it? As I shan't find a husband----" "Don't be pathetic. I can't stand that, either." "I know you can't. Is it my fault?" "When's your first novel coming out?" "Sooner than you think," said Gabrie, brightening, but coughing violently.