"Good-bye--Bella."

And the door fell to.

She was gone.

He could hear her hollow cough as she passed down the tesselated
corridor.




CHAPTER VI.


It was two days later. Sir John Chetwynd sat in his big easy chair
with an open letter before him. "We are surprised to have seen and
heard nothing of you," wrote the Duchess; "more especially as after
the few words we had in private upon a certain important matter, I
fully anticipated an early visit from you. But such a busy man as
yourself and one so much in request, both socially and
professionally, must not be judged by the rules which govern the
common herd, I suppose; at the same time (although I assure you she
has not said a word upon the subject) I can say that dear Ethel feels
herself a wee bit neglected. You must have been _professionally_
engaged last night, I presume, since we were obliged to dine without
you and go to see Sarah Bernhardt alone."

He had spent the whole evening in his consulting rooms, totally
forgetting his promise to escort his _fiancée_ and her mother to the