like when the people in the best carriages turn and say,
'That is Mademoiselle Nadie Palicsky, whose picture has
just been bought for the Luxembourg.'"

She paused and looked for a curious instant at Elfrida,
and then slipped quickly behind her chair. "_Embrasse
moi, cherie!_" she said, bringing her face with a bird-like
motion close to the other girl's.

Kendal saw an instinctive momentary aversion in the
backward start of Elfrida's head, and from the bottom of
his heart he was sorry for her. She pushed her friend
away almost violently.

"No!" she said. "No! I am sorry, but it is too childish.
We never kiss each other, you and I. And listen, Nadie:
I am delighted for you, but I have a sick headache--_la
migraine_, you understand. And you must go away, both of
you--both of you!" Her voice raised itself in the last
few words to an almost hysterical imperativeness. As they
went down the stairs together Mademoiselle Palicsky
remarked to Mr. John Kendal, repentant of the good that
he had done:

"So she has consulted her oracle and it has barked out
the truth. Let us hope she will not throw herself into
the Seine!"

"Oh no!" Kendal replied. "She's horribly hurt but I am
glad to believe that she hasn't the capacity for tragedy.