Even meeting the Countess of Belsborough at a reception, and being asked by her, in a sociable, friendly way, if I knew her cousin John, who was mining somewhere in Mexico or Honduras--she wasn’t sure which--did not cheer me up at all. The change in me was extraordinary. When I first came to London, if even a curate or a clerk from the city had asked me such a question, I’d have made an effort to remember John, as if Mexico had been my front garden and I’d played all round Honduras when I was a child. Now I said to Lady Belsborough that neither Mexico nor Honduras were part of the United States quite snappishly, as if I thought she was stupid. And all because of those accursed diamonds! It was toward the end of June, and the days were getting warm, when the climax came. The pressure of the season was abating. The rhododendrons were dead in the Park, and there was dust on the trees. In St. James’ the grass was quite worn and patchy, and strangely clad people lay on it, sleeping in the sun. One met a great many American tourists in white shirt-waists and long veils. I thought of the time when I, too, innocently and unthinkingly, had worn a white shirt-waist, and it didn’t seem to me such a horrible time, after all--at least, I did not then have one hundred and sixty-two stolen diamonds in my jewel-box. My heart was lighter in those days, even if my shirt-waist had only cost a dollar and forty-nine cents at a department store in Necropolis City. The month ended with a spell of what the English call “frightful heat.” It was quite warm weather, and we sat a good deal on the little balcony that juts out from my window over the front door. Farley Street is quiet and rather out of the line of general traffic, so we had chairs and a table there, and used to have tea served under the one palm, which was all there was room for. We could not have visitors there, for it opened out of my bedroom. So our tea-parties on the balcony were strictly family affairs--just Cassius, and Elaine, and I. The last day of the month was really very warm. Every door in the house was open, and the servants went about gasping, with their faces crimson. I dined at home alone that evening, as one of the members of the Box, Tub, and Cordage Company was in London, at the Carlton, and Cassius was dining with him. I did not expect him home till late, as there would be lots to talk over. I had not felt well all day. The heat had given me a headache, and after dinner I lay on the sofa in the sitting-room, feeling quite miserable. Only a few of the lamps were lit, and the house was dim and extremely quiet. Being alone that way in the half dark got on my nerves, and I decided I’d go up-stairs and go to bed early. I always did hate sitting about by myself, and now more than ever, with the diamonds on my conscience.