"I tell him he ought to leave London," Marion began again; "he
needs a change and a rest."

"I should think he might," Helen agreed, "after three months of
this heat. He wrote me he intended going to Herne Bay or over to
Ostend."

"Yes, he had meant to go," Marion answered. She spoke with the
air of one who possessed the most intimate knowledge of Carroll's
movements and plans, and change of plans. "But he couldn't," she
added. "He couldn't afford it. Helen," she said, turning to the
other girl, dramatically, "do you know--I believe that Philip is
very poor."

Miss Cabot exclaimed incredulously, "Poor!" She laughed. "Why,
what do you mean?"

"I mean that he has no money," Marion answered, sharply. "These
rooms represent nothing. He only keeps them on because he paid
for them in advance. He's been living on three shillings a day.
That's poor for him. He takes his meals at cabmen's shelters and
at Lockhart's, and he's been doing so for a month."

Helen recalled with a guilty thrill the receipt of certain boxes
of La France roses--cut long, in the American fashion--which had
arrived within the last month at various country houses. She
felt indignant at herself, and miserable. Her indignation was
largely due to the recollection that she had given these flowers
to her hostess to decorate the dinner-table.