has an eye in his head he must see my foot on each step! Even Mrs.
Carruthers said I have the best foot she had ever seen. I am getting quite
excited--I shall ring for Véronique and begin to dress!... I shall write
more presently.


_Thursday evening._


It is evening, and the fire is burning brightly in my sitting-room, where
I am writing. _My_ sitting-room!--did I say? Mr. Carruthers's
sitting-room, I meant--for it is mine no longer, and on Saturday, the day
after to-morrow, I shall have to bid good-bye to it forever.

For--yes, I may as well say it at once--the affair did not walk; Mr.
Carruthers quietly, but firmly, refused to obey his aunt's will, and thus
I am left an old maid!

I must go back to this afternoon to make it clear, and I must say my ears
tingle as I think of it.

I rang for Véronique, and put on my new black afternoon frock, which had
just been unpacked. I tucked in the violets in a careless way, saw that my
hair was curling as vigorously as usual, and not too rebelliously for a
demure appearance, and so, at exactly the right moment, began to descend
the stairs.

There was Mr. Carruthers in the hall. A horribly nice-looking, tall man,
with a clean-shaven face and features cut out of stone, a square chin, and
a nasty twinkle in the corner of his eye. He has a very distinguished