Kate Clephane, on the whole, took the change more philosophically. To begin with, it had been her own choice to fly as she had; and that in itself was a help--at times; and then--well, yes,--already, after the first weeks, she had begun to be aware that she was slipping back without too much discomfort into the old groove. The first month after her arrival wouldn’t yet bear thinking about; but it was well behind her now, and habit was working its usual miracle. She had been touched by the welcome her old friends and acquaintances had given her, and exquisitely relieved--after the first plunge--to find herself again among people who asked no questions about her absence, betrayed no curiosity about it, and probably felt none. They were all very much occupied with each other’s doings when they were together, but the group was so continually breaking up and reshaping itself, with the addition of new elements, and the departing scattered in so many different directions, and toward destinations so unguessable, that once out of sight they seemed to have no more substance or permanence than figures twitching by on a film. This sense of unsubstantiality had eased Kate Clephane’s taut nerves, and helped her to sink back almost unaware into her old way of life. Enough was known of her own existence in the interval--a shadowy glimpse of New York opulence, an Opera box, a massive and important family, a beautiful daughter married to a War Hero--to add considerably to her standing in the group; but her Riviera friends were all pleasantly incurious as to details. In most of their lives there were episodes to be bridged over by verbal acrobatics, and they were all accustomed to taking each other’s fibs at their face-value. Of Mrs. Clephane they did not even ask any: she came back handsomer, better dressed--yes, my dear, actually _sables_!--and she offered them cock-tails and Mah-Jongg in her own sitting-room (with a view of the sea thrown in). They were glad of so useful a recruit, and the distance between her social state and theirs was not wide enough to awaken acrimony or envy. “Aline!” The maid’s door was just across the passage now; she appeared almost at once, bearing a breakfast-tray on which were several letters.