I might do the London season by borrowing from Meg. It would cost a fortune, and--unless Strathay does propose--perhaps even she wouldn't care to finance me now. I wish--- Oh, I wish I could get out of my dreams the ghastly form of Darmstetter, as I saw him dead at my feet! He haunts me all day long, and all the night I dream of him! And I wish I had not broken John Burke's honest heart--how wistful he looked, as he waited for me at the door of the office and helped me to my carriage! Perhaps Ned wasn't in the building; perhaps--he may have avoided me. I wish I had not brought him sorrow, and I wish-- No, I don't! I just hope Milly is even more wretched than I am! Father really might mortgage. I could easily pay it back. I wonder I never thought of that. I'll ask him. I will not take my bills to Judge Baker--to be lectured on the dodo and on lines of social cleavage--as if any man could be a match for me. I'll never go back to Aunt Frank! There is Bellmer, now--and Strathay must soon return to New York, to sail. CHAPTER VI. LITTLE BROWN PARTRIDGES. May 20. I wonder if I couldn't _earn_ money. For the last week--nothing but trouble. No check from Father. Hugh Bellmer I have not seen. Strathay has really gone, spirited away by that superior cousin. And Mrs. Whitney has deserted me--oh, if it were not for money troubles, I wouldn't mind that, cruel as was the manner of it! Of course the newspapers soon learned that Strathay had left town. Trust them for that; and to make sensational use of it! The first I knew of it, indeed, was when one day Cadge came bursting into the room. "Isn't it a shame?" she began in her piercing voice; as ever at fever heat of unrest, she waved at me a folded newspaper. "Emphatically; but what is it?" "That fierce tale of the _Echo_; haven't seen it? We couldn't print a line. Big Tom says the chief has put his foot down; won't have stories about women in private life, you know--without their consent. But why didn't you--why can't you give us a whack at it?" "Because there isn't a word of truth in the whole disgusting--what does it say?" I had seized the sheet from her hands and rapidly glanced over the staring headlines. Eagerly she interrupted me:-- "Oh, isn't it the worst ever? But I see how it happened. They must have sent out a leg man to get facts, and when no one would talk, they stirred this up in the office. But--not to print, now--what _are_ you going to do with His Lordship? Honest, Princess?" "Nothing; there's absolutely nothing between us. He's a nice fellow, and I like him, and we're good friends; that's all. I--I knew he was going; fishing." "Well, I'm glad of that. But so must I be going." And she whisked out of the room, leaving in my hands this astounding outrage upon truth and decency: BY EDWARD PEPPER. Helen Winship is the most extraordinary woman living; The most beautiful woman in the world; A scientist of national repute;