The other bundled some linen and brushes into the portmanteau. "The poor old Gladstone's very thin still," she said, and folded skirts; "we must plump it out somehow." When the portmanteau was filled and strapped, they carried it down between them, in the dark, and got it out on to the pavement. "I am Miss Conway now," said the woman, "and we will drive to the Hotel de Lille. I went there one Easter with my father." With the change in her dress a change had come over Miss Conway's voice. At the Hotel de Lille it was she who ordered the two rooms, communicating, for herself and her cousin, explained where the rest of the luggage was, and gave orders for the morning chocolate. "This is very jolly," said Betty, when they were alone. "It's like an elopement." "Exactly," said Miss Conway. "Good night." "It's rather like a dream, though. I shan't wake up and find you gone, shall I?" Betty asked anxiously. "No, no. We've all your affairs to settle in the morning." "And yours?" "Mine were settled long ago. Oh, I forgot--I'm Miss Conway, at the Hotel de Lille. Yes, we'll settle my affairs in the morning, too. Good night, little girl." "Good night, Miss Conway." "They call me Lotty." "My name's Betty and--look here, I can't wait till the morning." Betty clasped her hands, and seemed to be holding her courage between them. "I've come to Paris to study art, and I want you to come and live with me. I know you'd like it, and I've got heaps of money--will you?" She spoke quickly and softly, and her face was flushed and her eyes bright. There was a pause. "You silly little duffer--you silly dear little duffer." The other woman had turned away and was fingering the chains of an ormolu candlestick on the mantelpiece. Betty put an arm over her shoulders. "Look here," she said, "I'm not such a duffer as you think. I know people do dreadful things--but they needn't go on doing them, need they?" "Yes, they need," said the other; "that's just it." Her fingers were still twisting the bronze chains. "And the women you talked about--in the Bible--they weren't kind and good, like you; they were just only horrid and not anything else. You told _me_ to be good. Won't you let me help you? Oh, it does seem such cheek of me, but I never knew anyone before who--I don't know how to say it. But I am so sorry, and I want you to be good, just as much as you want me to. Dear, dear Lotty!" "My name's Paula." "Paula dear, I wish I wasn't so stupid, but I know it's not your fault, and I know you aren't like that woman with the Germans." "I should hope not indeed," Paula was roused to flash back; "dirty little French gutter-cat." "I've never been a bit of good to anyone," said Betty, adding her other arm and making a necklace of the two round Paula's neck, "except to Parishioners perhaps. Do let me be a bit of good to you. Don't you think I could?" "You dear little fool!" said Paula gruffly.