she said, “for all you have done for me, and are doing. But you know I’m grateful, don’t you?”

I could feel the tears coming into my eyes.

“It is nothing, absolutely nothing,” I muttered, and hurried from the room.

At first, in the salon, I could not see Yvette, though the electric light had been turned on, no doubt by herself. Then there was a movement of one of the window-curtains, and she appeared from behind it.

“Oh, it is you,” she said calmly, with a cold smile. She had completely recovered her self-possession, so much was evident; and apparently she was determined to play the game to the end, accepting defeat with an air of ironical and gay indifference.