"He means do you want just tea," explained Olwen, "or anything with it?" "Oh! Everything there is. You like cake, don't you? Girls do," said the Spinster with that timid, friend-hunting glance. "Jam, and pastries, and things. Tell him to bring everything, please." "_Complet_," ordered little Olwen, feeling a woman of the world in comparison with this stranger who was abashed before waiters. "Oh, how well you talk French," murmured the other. "Do sit down here. I wonder if I shall ever be able to talk it quickly. I've never been in France before, do you know? I----Isn't it funny? I have hardly ever been _anywhere_!" "_Haven't_ you?" said Olwen--who herself had known her native Wales, Liverpool, the South Kensington Museum, and some other museums in Paris. The Spinster broke into further confidences. "Oh, no. You see, I lived a very secluded life. I had to. I lived with an elderly cousin of mine in Buckinghamshire, oh, quite in the country. Here she is." From her silver-strewn table the Spinster took an ornate oval frame. It enclosed the portrait of an old lady in a Victorian cap of lace and ribbons, with beetle-brows and a mouth of steel. "Yes, this is Miss Walsh; the same name as mine, you see. She never left her house for the last fifteen years, you know. A beautiful house; such grounds! We never went out of them, except the half-mile drive to church every Sunday. And of course we scarcely ever saw anybody, except just the Rector and the old Doctor," the Spinster confided to Olwen. "All that money----But, poor thing, she was never really well. Of late years she had to have everything done for her; everything!" "I suppose _you_ had to do it!" volunteered Olwen, with a glance at the portrait and a pang of pity for the woman who showed it to her. The girl was too young to read the whole story as Mrs. Cartwright would have done; soaring years of a woman's youth harnessed to the bath-chair of a bitter-tongued tyrant in shawl and cap! But she guessed that the "poor thing" might more appropriately be applied to Miss Walsh the younger. "Oh, well," said the Spinster, gently, "she only had me in the world. Except her nephew. She quarrelled with him. He was very outspoken, and--well, they quarrelled. He should have come in to her money, you know. She made another will only just before she died, poor thing. That's how----" She gave a gesture that seemed to take in the new portmanteau on the floor, the winking silver-backed brushes on the table, her own tweeds and furs, the wide view from the window, and the waiter bringing in the tea-tray. "It all came to _me_!" concluded Miss Walsh, diffident, amazed. "I can scarcely believe it _yet_! I couldn't believe I could leave the place and go away for as long as I liked!" Olwen asked, "What brought you? Why did you come here?"