Millie had also another reason for silence; she was thinking very hard. During those few days in London she had lived in a world of thrilling expectation. She hoped that every moment would announce the elopement of Katherine and Philip. After her conversation with her sister, it had seemed to her that this elopement was inevitable. On every occasion of the opening of a door in the London house her heart had leapt in her breast. She had watched the lovers with eyes that were absorbed. Ah! if only they would take her more thoroughly into their confidence, would put themselves into her hands. She’d manage for them—she’d arrange everything most beautifully. This was the most romantic hour of her life.... But now, after Henry’s revelation, Millie’s thoughts were turned upon her mother. Of course her mother would expel Philip—then there was a danger that Philip would return to that living, fascinating creature in Russia, the mysterious, smiling Anna. Millie had created that figure for herself now, had thought and wondered and dreamed of her so often that she saw her bright and vivid and desperately dangerous, thin and dark and beautiful against a background of eternal snow. There they were—her mother and Anna and Katherine, with Philip, poor Philip, in between them all. It was truly a wonderful time for Millie, who regarded all this as a prologue to her own later dazzling history. She did not know that, after all, she blamed Henry very desperately for his foolishness. The thrilling crisis was but brought the nearer. Meanwhile the first thing that she did was to inform Katherine of Henry’s treachery. Katherine received the news very quietly. “And now,” said Millie eagerly, “what will you do, Katie darling?” “Wait and see what Mother does,” said Katie. “She’ll be simply horrified,” said Millie. “If she sends Philip away and forbids you ever to see him again, what will you do?” But Katherine would not answer that. “Let’s wait, Millie dear,” she said gently. “But you wouldn’t let him _go_?” Millie pursued, “not back to Russia and that awful woman.” “I trust Philip,” Katherine said. “You can never trust a man,” Millie said gravely. “I know. One of our girls in Paris was let in terribly. She—” Katherine interrupted her. “Philip isn’t like anyone else,” she said. And Millie was dismissed. But when Katherine was alone she sat down and wrote a letter. This was it: MY DARLING RACHEL,