formula.

"What name?" said the clerk.

"Moze--Audrey Moze," she answered, for she had not dared to acquaint Mr.
Foulger with her widowhood, and his cheques were made out to herself.

The clerk vanished, and in a moment reappeared, silently wrote something on
a little form, and pushed it to her under the grille. She read:

"73,065 frs. 50c."

The fact was that in six months she had spent little more than the amount
which she had brought with her from London. Having begun in simplicity, in
simplicity she had continued, partly because she had been too industrious
and too earnest for luxurious caprices, partly because she had never been
accustomed to anything else but simplicity, and partly from wilfulness. It
had pleased her to think that she was piling tens of thousands upon tens of
thousands--in francs.

But in the night she had decided that the moment had arrived for a change
in the great campaign of seeing life and tasting it.

She timorously drew a cheque for eleven thousand francs, and asked for ten
thousand in notes and a thousand in gold. The clerk showed no trace of
either astonishment or alarm; but he insisted on her endorsing the cheque.
When she saw the gold, she changed half of it for ten notes of fifty francs
each.

Emerging with false but fairly plausible nonchalance from the crowded