“I do think you’re real horrid,” she said judicially. “Here’s Fay making herself sick crying, and you teasing her all the time. I’ll have her go up to town and see a nerve-specialist, now the weather’s warmer. Your cars are so draughty in winter that I’d just as lief have taken her to the Arctic. But I know all this is telling upon her nerves, and it’s awfully bad the way you go on exciting her. Come, Fay, darling.” She swept away the still sobbing Félicia, leaving Usk to mental abuse of himself and her in turn, and having settled her in her room, went with a grave face in search of Lady Caerleon. She felt certain that the shock and strain of the autumn and winter had been too much for Félicia’s strength, and that it was imperative to take her to a London doctor at once. Grieved and startled, Lady Caerleon offered to accompany the two girls herself, but Maimie declined her escort gracefully. She and Félicia and the maid would run up to town for two nights, and see whether the complete change from her present surroundings would do anything to restore Félicia’s cheerfulness. The inference was obvious, and Lady Caerleon interposed to restrain her husband when he wished to insist upon accompanying the girls. It was out of the question, he declared, for them to make the journey alone, and stay at a hotel by themselves, but his wife was strongly of opinion that it was better to leave them to take their own course. Things could not go on as they were at present, and a little reflection might show Félicia how severely she had of late tried the patience of her friends. It is possible that there was in Lady Caerleon’s mind the thought, or even the hope, that Félicia might discover that she was happier apart from Usk, and take the opportunity of breaking off her engagement, but the actual upshot of the visit to London was quite unexpected. It was announced in a letter from Maimie, brief and agitated in appearance. “Dear Lady Caerleon,” she wrote, “I’m in the most awful state of mind about Félicia. The doctor says it would be simply fatal for her to return to the country at this season. She must just be in a cheerful place, with lively people around, and everything bright. Most happily, the letter that arrived when we were starting was from Mrs van Zyl, repeating her former invitation to Nice, and I have wired to tell her to expect us right now. We have bought a travelling-suit each, and a waist or two, here, but we will just take a few hours in Paris as we pass through, and get some decent gowns. I am sorry to have quit Llandiarmid so suddenly, but at present I can think of nothing but Félicia. She looks awfully sick, but I hope to see her revive in the South. She will insert a note to Lord Usk if she feels able. Will you kindly send our baggage after us to the Villa Bougainvillea?”