AFTER the morning on which Martha had been by accident a witness of the princess’s self-betrayal, there seemed nothing lacking to the complete understanding of the two friends, and their intimacy was now stronger and closer than ever. It was not practicable for Martha to visit the princess very often, as she was compelled to take the time for these visits out of her atelier hours, and both women were too earnest in their work not to begrudge this. Lately they had fallen into the custom of the generality of the students, and went for their midday meal to the _crèmerie_ in the neighborhood, after they had visited first the butcher’s shop, and selected their own mutton-chop or bit of beefsteak; then they had it cooked according to their directions. This, with fresh rolls and baked apples and milk, made an excellent meal, sometimes augmented by potato salad. Martha had been initiated into these mysteries by an American girl whose acquaintance she had made through the latter’s having once offered to help her on with her “josie,” a word which had established an easy footing between them at once. Martha never exchanged more than a passing remark with the other students, partly because she had, in the beginning, built a sort of barrier around her by her shyness, and, recently, because she felt that her intimacy with the princess, who knew none of the others, set her more than ever apart. One morning Martha came to the atelier rather late, and showed, moreover, a certain excitement in her movements and expression which she accounted for at lunch-time by telling the princess that her sister’s wedding had been hurried up, and was to take place almost immediately. There were several good reasons for this; one being that it suited much better the plans of the bridegroom elect, and another that Mrs. Keene, being in rather delicate health, had been urged by her physicians to leave Paris. So, as soon as the wedding was over, she was to go south with the younger girls and their governess; and Martha, who rebelled against being taken from her beloved painting, had a beautiful plan of getting her brother to stay awhile in Paris with her in their mother’s apartment. This she confided to the princess with breathless delight, saying that she had written to Harold about it, and told him to cable her if he were willing. Her friend could see that, with her usual license of imagination, Martha had been making all sorts of plans in connection with this scheme, and she more than suspected that some of these concerned herself. “My dear Martha,” she said, with a penetrating look into her friend’s eager eyes, “give it up at once, on the spot, if you have been making any plans to introduce your brother to me!” “Oh, _why_?” said Martha, in tones of the keenest regret. “Because, my dear, it is out of the question. If you knew how sick to death I am of men, you would not ask it. Please, if you love me, don’t speak of it again.”