"Did she tell you anything about it?"

"A little. He came here to say good-bye to her before going to France--"

"I know," interpolated Kitty. "He's going there to paint Princess
Somebody-or-other while she's staying in Paris."

"Well, I came in when he'd left and found Nan sitting like a stone
statue, gazing blankly in front of her. She wouldn't say much, but bit
by bit I dragged it out of her. Since then she has never referred to the
matter again. She is quite gay at times in a sort of artificial way, but
she doesn't do any work, though she spends odd moments fooling about at
the piano. She goes out morning, noon, and night, and comes back
dead-beat, apparently not having enjoyed herself at all. Can you imagine
Nan like that?"

"Not very easily."

"I believe he's taken the savour out of things for her," said Penelope,
adding slowly, in a voice that was quite unlike her usual practical
tones: "Brushed the bloom off the world for her."

"Poor old Nan! She must be hard hit. . . . She's never been hurt badly
before."

"Never--before she met that man. I can't forgive him, Kitty. I'm
horribly afraid what sort of effect this miserable affair is going to
have on a girl of Nan's queer temperament."

Kitty turned the matter over in her mind in silence. Then with a small,