And before Netta's inward eye there stretched the interminable days and
weeks ahead, no less than the interminable weeks and months she had
already lived through, in this discomfort of body, and this loneliness of
spirit.

After supper she walked resolutely into her husband's littered study and
demanded that she and Anastasia and the baby should go with him to the
Continent. He, she understood, would stop in Paris. She and the child
would push on to Florence, where she could stay the summer with her
people, at no greater cost than at the Tower. The change was necessary
both for her and Felicia, and go she would.

Melrose flatly and violently refused. What did she want better than the
Tower? She had as much service, and as much luxury as her antecedents
entitled her to; and he neither could nor would provide her with anything
more. He was heavily in debt, and had no money to spend on railway
tickets. And he entirely disapproved of her relations, especially of her
father, who might any day find himself "run in" by the Italian
authorities for illicit smuggling of pictures out of the country. He
declined to allow his child to become familiar with such a circle.

Netta listened to him with tight lips, her pale face strangely flushed.
When she saw that her appeal was quite fruitless she went away, and she
and Anastasia sat up whispering together far into the night.

Early next morning Melrose departed, leaving a letter for his wife, in
which he informed her that he had left money with Mr. Tyson for the
household expenses, and for the few shillings he supposed she would want
as pocket money. He advised her to be out a great deal, and assured her