has great goût. Yes, indeed. Mademoiselle cannot do better than those little suits if she is going to the Riviera, as I suppose, this winter."
"Let me see that evening dress once more," said Katherine"the pinky mauve one."
Virginie appeared, circling slowly.
"That is the prettiest of all," said Katherine, as she surveyed the exquisite draperies of mauve and grey and blue. "What do you call it?"
"Soupir d'automne; yes, yes, that is truly the dress of Mademoiselle."
What was there in these words that came back to Katherine with a faint feeling of sadness after she had left the dressmaking establishment.
"'Soupir d'automne; that is truly the dress of Mademoiselle.'" Autumn, yes, it was autumn for her. She who had never known spring or summer, and would never know them now. Something she had lost never could be given to her again. These years of servitude in St. Mary Meadand all the while life passing by.
"I am an idiot," said Katherine. "I am an idiot. What do I want? Why, I was more contented a month ago than I am now."
She drew out from her handbag the letter she had received that morning from Lady Tamplin. Katherine was no fool. She understood the nuances of that letter as well as anybody and the reason of Lady Tamplin's sudden show of affection towards a long-forgotten cousin was not lost upon her. It was for profit and not for pleasure that Lady Tamplin was so anxious for the company of her dear cousin. Well, why not? There would be profit on both sides.
