Askew seized her hand. "I promise!" Then, coaxingly: "We are friends!" "Parting friends, and I have already shaken hands with you twice. _Au revoir_, till Curzon Street," and nodding him God-speed, she retired to consider possibilities of preventing a speedy departure. Poor woman! No sooner had she cleared away one obstacle than another bulked in the path. And these, unfortunately, she could not leap over or go round. They had to be removed by toilsome pick-and-shovel work. "What a mercy Demetrius is disposed of!" said Lady Jim, to her mirror. "Two new wrinkles. I shan't give that silly boy the chance of adding a third." On the morning of departure from Paris Leah received a letter from Demetrius, which she showed to Joan, almost as soon as the train steamed out of the Gard du Nord. A week of talk in Paris, and five years' study in England, had instructed Miss Tallentire insufficiently in the French tongue; therefore did she wilt away at the sight of the epistle. Lady Jim translated. "He is still ill in some hotel"--she was careful not to give the address--"but better, much better. Later he proposes to go to Russia." "I thought he was an exile," said Joan, doubtfully. "He is. I think the folly of risking his liberty in St. Petersburg is apparent. But he hopes to cajole the Czar into granting his pardon. M'm!" Leah packed away the letter in her dressing-bag. "I daresay we shall hear of him next in Siberia." Joan opened a pair of horrified eyes. "Lady James!" "Oh, it's a charming place, they say, and not at all so disagreeable as people make out. The climate is much more delightful than our own, dear, and the society really intellectual. The Russians send all their clever people there, you know. I am sure Dr. Demetrius will be very comfortable." "Exile to Siberia! It sounds horrible." "Yes--sounds, but isn't. You have been reading Tolstoy and seeing melodramas, my dear." "I thought Dr. Demetrius loved you," said Joan, suddenly. "Oh, he did; the man was a perfect nuisance. But, you see, I did not love him." "No, no! Of course you would not. I never meant that. As poor dear Lord James's wife you could not." "And as poor dear Lord James's widow, I can, only I don't." Miss Tallentire was still confused. "You must think me dreadfully rude--oh, dreadfully," she murmured, regretting an unintentional insinuation. "I think you dreadfully innocent, and dreadfully sweet," said Leah, kissing the flushed face. "I'm talking like that horrid Mulrady girl. Where do these Americans pick up their adjectives?"