The cab stopped at a large, sparkling, plate-glassy shop--a very high-class fruiterer's and greengrocer's. The name on the elaborately gilded facia was, beyond any doubt, Eden--Frederick Eden. Mrs. Despard got out and walked into the shop. To this hour the scent of Tangerine oranges brings to her a strange, sick, helpless feeling of disillusionment. A stout well-oiled woman, in a very tight puce velveteen bodice with bright buttons and a large yellow lace collar, fastened with a blue enamel brooch, leaned forward interrogatively. "Mrs. Cave?" said Mrs. Despard. "Don't know the name, madam." "Wasn't that the name of the gentleman Miss Eden married?" "It seems to me you're making a mistake, madam. Excuse me, but might I ask your name?" "I'm Mrs. Despard. Miss Eden lived with me as governess." "Oh, yes"--the puce velvet seemed to soften--"very pleased to see you, I'm sure! Come inside, madam. Ellen's just run round to the fishmonger's. I'm not enjoying very good health just now"--the glance was intolerably confidential--"and I thought I could fancy a bit of filleted plaice for my supper, or a nice whiting. Come inside, do!" Mrs. Despard, stunned, could think of no course save that suggested. She followed Mrs. Eden into the impossible parlour that bounded the shop on the north. "Do sit down," said Mrs. Eden hospitably, "and the girl shall get you a cup of tea. It's full early, but a cup of tea's always welcome, early or late, isn't it?" "Yes, indeed," said Mrs. Despard, automatically. Then she roused herself and added, "But please don't trouble, I can't stay more than a few minutes. I hope Miss Eden is well?" "Oh, yes--she's all right. She lives in clover, as you might say, since her uncle on the mother's side left her that hundred a year. Made it all in fried fish, too. I should have thought it a risk myself, but you never know." Mrs. Despard was struggling with a sensation as of sawdust in the throat--sawdust, and a great deal of it, and very dry. "But I heard that Miss Eden was married--" "Not she!" said Mrs. Eden, with the natural contempt of one who was. "I understood that she had married a Mr. Cave." "It's some other Eden, then. There isn't a Cave in the town, so far as I know, except Mr. Augustus; he's a solicitor and Commissioner for Oaths, a very good business, and of course he'd never look the same side of the road as she was, nor she couldn't expect it." "But really," Mrs. Despard persisted, "I do think there must be some mistake. Because she came to see me--and--and she brought her baby." Mrs. Eden laughed outright. "Her baby? Oh, really! But she's never so much as had a young man after her, let alone a husband. It's not what she could look for, either, for she's no beauty--poor girl!" Yet the Baby was evidence--of a sort. Mrs. Despard hated herself for hinting that perhaps Mrs. Eden did not know everything.