He had thought so much of her, felt her so deeply the last few days that he fancied it must somehow have reached her. He read: 'My Dear Aylmer, 'I'm glad you are in Paris; it seems nearer home. Last night I went to the Mitchells' and Mr Mitchell disguised himself as a Russian Count. Nobody worried about it, and then he went and undisguised himself again. But Lady Hartland worried about it, and as she didn't know the Mitchells before, when he was introduced to her properly she begged him to give her the address of that charming Russian. And Vincy was there, and darling Vincy told me you'd written him a letter saying you weren't so very happy. And oh, Aylmer, I don't see the point of your waiting till September to come back. Why don't you come _now_? 'We're going away for Archie's holidays. Come back and see us and take Freddie with us somewhere in England. You told me to ask you when I wanted you--ask you anything I wanted. Well, I want to see you. I miss you too much. You arrived in Paris last night. Let me knew when you can come. I want you. Edith.' The bell was rung violently. Orders were given, arrangements made, packing was done. Aylmer was suddenly quite well, quite happy. In a few hours he was in the midnight express due to arrive in London at six in the morning--happy beyond expression. By ten o'clock in the morning he would hear her voice on the telephone. He met a poor man just outside the hotel selling matches, in rags. Aylmer gave him three hundred francs. He pretended to himself that he didn't want any more French money. He felt he wanted someone else to be happy too. CHAPTER XVIII A Contretemps