"Felicia," he groped for words as he faced the questioning-eyed child,
"I--we--you--cannot go to the House in the Woods just now--I have
Certain Legal Matters that must be attended to--but we--we will go
some day--"

She accepted this with all the earnestness of her eleven years. But at
the door she paused, shyly. He looked very "cross and worried."

"This afternoon, if you wish," she said, "I will play chess with you.
I can do three gambits. I tried them alone yesterday. We'll not play
in Maman's room--but in the garden--"

But for some strange reason he did not smile at all when he called
"Check!" He only bent his head over her hand and kissed it as he had
kissed her mother's. It was the first caress he had ever given her.
She put the hand against her cheek and loved it when he was gone. And
clambering up to bed she paused outside her mother's door.

"Maman, we were a little happy in the garden--" she whispered, "were
you happy in your garden?"

Interminable days followed, dreary days punctuated with quarrel after
quarrel. It sometimes seemed to Octavia's unhappy daughter that there
was nothing she could touch without Mademoiselle's disapproval.

The garments that had hung in the wardrobes, lovely things that
tempted the beauty-loving child, were all packed away in the storeroom
back of the linen closet; the bits of ornaments and jewelry that
Octavia had let the child play with were all tucked away.