The rain, which had set in with such quiet determination at sunset, fulfilled its promise of continuing through the night: and the pattering on the slates that had mingled with Quita's latest thoughts greeted her, with derisive iteration, when she opened her eyes next morning. But its power to thwart her was at an end. Now that daylight was come, nothing short of a landslip could withhold her from the thing she craved. The thought leaped in her brain before she was fully awake. "And after all, why should I wait till the afternoon," was her practical conclusion. "I'll go down at eleven." With that she sprang out of bed, and slipping on a dull blue dressing-gown, hurried into the dining-room, where she and Michael always met for _chota hazri_. Here she found him, in Japanese smoking suit and slippers, smiling contentedly over an item of his early post. "What's pleasing you, _mon cher_?" she asked absently, depositing a light kiss on his hair. For a woman in love--and a man no less--is as royally indifferent to the joys and sorrows of all creation as childhood itself. "A letter from my pretty Puritan. It is not for nothing that she has those straight brows, and that small resolute chin. She will not be thrust down any man's throat for all the hen-sparrows in Christendom!" "Why--what does she say?" Quita asked, peering critically into the teapot, and wondering how it would feel to pour out Eldred's early tea! "Listen then; and judge for yourself: "'DEAR MR MAURICE,---There seems to have been an unlucky misunderstanding between you and mother yesterday. But I hope this need not make any real difference in our friendship. Because I think we have always understood each other, haven't we? Of course if my parents prefer that we should not be about together quite so much, there is no help for it. But at least I would like you to know that I am still, as I always have been, your friend (if you wish it) "'ELSIE MAYHEW.'" "_Tiens_! How is that for your 'child of twenty'? It is the letter of a woman; and a woman with an exquisite sense of her own dignity into the bargain." Quita smiled thoughtfully as she buttered her toast. "I am wondering how she would have answered if you had asked her," was all she said. "I don't feel quite so certain as I did last night." "_Ni moi non plus_. Which makes the situation just twice as interesting. For all the Button Quail's beak and claws, I fancy I shall see more of my Undine yet!" With a chuckle of satisfaction, he fell to re-reading Elsie's note: and Quita, immersed in her own affairs, promptly forgot them both.