Daphne came reluctantly and thrust a large hand at Lady Heritage without looking at her. Raymond looked at it for a moment, and, after a perceptible pause, just touched the finger-tips. Mrs. Cottingham never stopped talking. “So it _is_ your friend, and you’re just too excited for words. Take her away and have a good gossip. Lady Heritage and I have a great deal to talk about.—You were saying....” “I was saying,” said Lady Heritage wearily, “that you must write at once if you want Masterson to lecture for you next winter.” Daphne dragged Jane to the far end of the room. “Oh, Renata, how perfectly delicious! But how did you come here? And what are you doing, and where’s Arnold, and why aren’t you with him?” She made a pounce at Jane’s left hand, and felt the third finger. “Oh, where’s your ring?” she said. “Hush!” said Jane. They reached a sofa and sank upon it. Immediately in front of them was an octagonal table of light-coloured wood profusely carved. Upon it, amongst lesser portraits, stood a tall photograph of Mrs. Cottingham in a train, and feathers, and a tiara. The sofa was low, and Jane felt that fate had been kinder than she deserved. “Oh, Renata, aren’t you married?” breathed Daphne. She breathed very hard, and Jane was reminded of Arnold on the fire-escape. “Oh, Renata, tell me! When she ... Mrs. Cottingham said, ‘Miss Renata Molloy,’ I nearly died. I said, ‘Miss Molloy?’ And she said, ‘Yes, Miss Renata Molloy,’ and oh, I very nearly let the cat out of the bag.” She grasped Jane’s hand and pressed it violently. “But I didn’t. Arnold told me not to, and I didn’t, but, of course, I’m simply _dying_ to know all about everything. Now, darling, tell me ... tell me everything.” Never in her life had Jane felt so much aloof from any human creature. There was something so inexpressibly comic in the idea of pouring out her heart to Daphne Todhunter that she did not even feel nervous, only aloof—aloof, and cool. She looked earnestly at Daphne, and said: “What did Arnold tell you?” “It was the greatest shock,” said Daphne, “and such a surprise. One minute there he was, moving about at home, and not knowing when he would get a job, and perfectly distracted with hopelessness about you; and the next he rushed down to say good-bye because he was going to Bolivia, and his heart was broken because you wouldn’t go too....” She stopped for breath, and squeezed Jane’s hand even harder than before. “And then,” she continued, “you can imagine what a shock it was to get the letter-card.” “Yes,” said Jane, “it must have been. What did it say?” Daphne opened her eyes and her mouth. “Didn’t he show it to you? How perfectly extraordinary of him!” “Well, he didn’t” said Jane. “What did he say?” “I know it by heart,” said Daphne ardently. “I could repeat every word.” “Well, for goodness’ sake do!” “Renata! How odd you are, not a bit like yourself!” Fear stabbed Jane. “Tell me what he said—tell me what he said,” she repeated.