As soon as dinner was over she went into the kitchen and devoted herself to compiling a tray—not a tray merely of halfcooled dinner things, but a specially prepared “nice” tray, suitable for tempting any one. Nothing else matters. She had decided that she would spend the next morning answering advertisements in the papers that abounded in the writing-room; and so, after half an hour’s perusal of back numbers of the Sketch in the drawingroom, she had gone to bed. Never mind. “Pellissier,” she repeated thoughtfully. “I love you, I always will. The signs of tears had all gone, but some subtle change seemed to have stolen into her face. She reached a tiny yellow-fronted cottage covered with flowering creepers, and entered the front room by the wide-open window. \" Michelle's shoulders sank, feeling the weight of the pack. “—but this cannot be. That is why I am here.
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