"I said I would like to do that, and so I would!" he answered. "But believe me, Norma, your money makes a very different sort of thing possible now, and you would be mad--you would be _mad_!--to throw it away. Put yourself in Annie's hands," he finished, with the first hint of his old manner that she had seen for forty-eight hours, "and have your car, your maids, your little establishment on the upper East Side, and then--then"--and now his arm was about her, and he had tipped up her face close to his own--"and then you and I will break our little surprise to them!" he said, kindly. "Only be careful, Norma. Don't let them say that you did anything ostentatious or conspicuous----" She freed herself, her heart cold and desolate almost beyond bearing, and Chris answered her as if she had spoken. "Yes--and I must go, too! To-morrow will be a terrible day for us all. Oh, one thing more, Norma! Annie asked me if I had any idea of who the man was--the man Wolf speaks of there in that note--and I had to say someone, just to quiet her. So I said that I thought it was Roy Gillespie--you don't mind?--I knew he liked you tremendously, and I happened to think of him! Is that all right?" She made no audible answer, almost immediately leaving him, and going upstairs. There was nothing to do, in her room, and she knew that she could really be of use downstairs, among the intimate old friends who were protecting Annie and Leslie from annoyance, but she felt in no mood for that. She hated herself and everybody; she was half-mad with fatigue and despondency. Oh, what was the use of living--what was the use of living! Chris despised her; that was quite plain. He had advised her to-night as he would have advised an ignorant servant--an inexperienced commoner who might make the family ridiculous--who might lose her head, and descend to "unnecessary pieces of vulgarity!" Leslie had always "made allowances for Norma"; Annie considered her an "outsider." Wolf was going to California without her, and even Aunt Kate--even Aunt Kate had scolded her, reminded her that the Melroses had always been kind to her! Norma's tears flowed fast, there seemed to be no end to the flood. She sopped them away with the black-bordered handkerchief, and tried walking about, and drinking cold water, but it was of no use. Her heart seemed broken, there was no avenue for her thoughts that did not lead to loneliness and grief. They had all pretended to love her--but not one of them did--not one of them did! She had never had a father, and never had a mother, she had never had a fair chance! Money--she thought darkly. But what was the use of money if everyone hated her, if everyone thought she was selfish and stupid and ignorant and superfluous! Why find a beautiful apartment, and buy beautiful clothes, if she must flatter and cajole her way into Annie's favour to enjoy them, and bear Chris's superior disdain for her stumbling literary criticisms and her amateurish Italian?