Her mouth seemed to crack a little by way of recognition, and she passed in a flash of winking lacquer. But Marie driving with Jack! That penultimate meeting was the most surprising. Did he really think she--Mildred--or, indeed, Marie, was the sort of woman to stand a _ménage à trois_, especially when one of the three was his wife? Then, like an earthquake wave laden with the dead slime of the stirred depths, the sense of her own impotence came over her. Only a fortnight ago she had airily told Jack that she was glad that concealment was at an end--that she would now break with Marie. But what if something else was at an end? What if her revolt at a _ménage à trois_ was altogether ill-founded? Out of three people there were two mathematically possible arrangements _à deux_. In this case one would have to be left out. She had put up her veil, and at this moment something line-like crossed the field of her left eye. She put up her hand, and found between her finger and thumb a long hair, golden, but gray near the root. One hair only, and they were all numbered! But this was not number one.... There were certain savage tribes that could only count up to eight. She rather envied them their blissful incapacity. There came a sudden stop, and she found herself in a queue of carriages at the side of the road. Down the centre came the royal outriders, followed by the carriage. The King and one of the Princesses were seated in it. He took off his hat to some one in the carriage immediately in front of hers, then turned and spoke to his companion. Probably his oversight of her was quite unintentional. But something within her said, "What if--" For some weeks now she had been a little uneasy; she had felt that her case was under consideration. Perhaps her not being recognised was the formal declaration to her of her sentence.