It flashed across Edith what an immense bond of sympathy it was between
Bruce and Madame Frabelle that neither of them was burdened with the
slightest sense of humour.

When he presently went out (each of them preferred talking to Her alone,
and She also enjoyed a _tete-a-tete_ most) Madame Frabelle drew up her
chair nearer to Edith and said:

'My dear, I'm going to tell you something. Don't be angry with me, or
think me impertinent, but you've been very kind to me, and I look upon
you as a real friend.'

'It's very sweet of you,' said Edith, feeling hypnotised, and as if she
would gladly devote her life to Madame Frabelle.

'Well, I can see something. You are not quite happy.'

'Not happy!' exclaimed Edith.

'No. You have a trouble, and I'd give anything to take it away.'

Madame Frabelle looked at her with sympathy, pressed her hand, then
looked away.

Edith knew she was looking away out of delicacy. Delicacy about what? It
was an effort not to laugh; but, oddly enough, it was also an effort not
to feel secretly miserable. She wondered, though, what she was unhappy
about. She need not have troubled, for Madame Frabelle was quite willing
to tell her. She was, indeed, willing to tell anyone anything. Perhaps
that was the secret of her charm.