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yesterday's frippery. If I had told her that yesterday's cab
horse had broken his neck, she could not be more unconcerned.
Nay, she is glad. Harry had not treated her nicely. He had
boxed her up in a cabin where she had been sick, and had
subjected her to various other discomforts. I, on the contrary,
had surrounded her with luxuries and dressed her in red silk.
She rather dreaded Harry's coming. When she learned that this
was improbable she was relieved. His death had turned the
improbable into the impossible. It was the end of the matter.
She was so glad!
Yet there must have been some tender passage in their brief
intercourse. He must have kissed her during their flight from
home to steamer. Her young pulses must have throbbed a little
faster at the sight of his comely face.
What kind of a mythological being am I housing? Did she come at
all out of Hamdi Effendi's harem? Is she not rather some strange
seacreature that clambered on board the vessel and bewitched the
miserable boy, sucked the soul out of him, and drove him to
destruction? Or is she a Vampire? Or a Succubus? Or a
Hamadryad? Or a Salamander?
One thing, I vow she is not human.
If only Judith were here to advise me! And yet I have an uneasy
feeling that Judith will suggest, with a certain violence that is
characteristic of her, the one course which I cannot follow: to
send Carlotta back to Hamdi Effendi. But I cannot break my word.
I would rather, far rather, break Carlotta's beautiful neck.
I have not written to Judith. Nor, by the way, have I received a
letter from her. Delphine has been whirling her off her legs,
and she is ashamed to confess the delusion of the sequestered
life. I wish I were enjoying myself half as much as Judith.
I have adopted Mademoiselle, said I to Antoinette this morning.
If she returned to Asia Minor they would put a string round her
neck, tie her up in a sack, and throw her into the sea.
That would be a pity, said Antoinette, warmly.
_Cela depend_, said I. Anyhow she is here, and here she
remains.
In that case, said Antoinette, has Monsieur considered that
the poor angel will need clothes and articles of toiletteand
this and that and the other?
And shoes to hide her shameless tus, I said.
They are the most beautiful toes I have ever seen! cried
Antoinette in imbecile admiration. She has bewitched that old
woman already.
I put on my hat and went to Wellington Road to consult Mrs.

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