But at that, illusions burst as bubbles in the breeze. Once more the tension of the past days strung Aliette's mind to misery. She was an outlaw, a woman apart--a woman ostracized--worse, a woman who had failed her mate. Memory, killing illusions, cast itself back, remembering and exaggerating her every little unloving word, her every little unloving gesture, blaming her for them. "My fault," thought Aliette, "mine and mine only. I have been selfish to him. Utterly selfish. I've been--like I used to be with Hector." Thought threw up its line, horrified at the comparison; and, abruptly conscious of every-day life, Aliette found herself in Berkeley Square. Automatically she turned down Bruton Street. The mere name of the street--newly-painted in black block letters on gray stone--reminded her again of Billy, of Billy's visit to Julia Cavendish. At whose instigation, his own or hers, had the admiral visited Ronnie's mother? Hope rose again; but now, with hope, mingled despair. Had she so far failed Ronnie as to have forfeited his confidence? Still walking automatically, Aliette found herself facing the mahogany door of Julia's house, and rang the bell. "Yes," said Kate, "Mrs. Cavendish was at home, and alone. Would Mrs. Ronnie" (it was an understood thing in the basement of Bruton Street that Aliette should be referred to as "Mrs. Ronnie") "like some tea?" "Thank you, Kate. That would be very nice." Aliette, unannounced, went slowly up the print-hung staircase; tapped on the drawing-room door; heard a faint "Come in"; and turned the handle. Ronnie's mother lay on the sofa. She looked white, exhausted; but her lips framed themselves to a smile. "I may come in, mayn't I?" Aliette's misery increased at the sight of her hostess's pallor. "Kate's promised to bring me some tea. I'm not disturbing you, am I?" "My dear, you're always welcome. Come and sit here by me." Julia made place on the sofa, and Aliette sat down. "I wonder why she came this afternoon," mused the elder woman. "I wonder if, by any chance, she can have found out. Awkward, if she _has_ found it. Very awkward." But there was no tremor of guilt in her, "How's Ronnie?" "Quite well, thank you." "And you?" "Oh, I'm all right. A little worried, that's all." "Worried? What about?" "Oh, various things." Kate, bringing the tea, interrupted their conversation. Watching Aliette as she drank, Julia saw that the hands, usually so steady, trembled. "Can't you tell me about the worries?" she said kindly. "There's nothing--really." Aliette's voice trembled as her hands. "Only I--I--met Hector's father just now. And somehow--it rather made me realize--my position." "Did he tell you," Julia's courage fought with her fatigue, "that he'd been to see me?" "He did." Aliette put down her tea-cup on the little mahogany stand. "May I know--did you send for him?" "Yes. I sent for him." A smile. "You mustn't be angry with me." "But why--why wasn't I told about it?"