CHAPTER V.
May 26th.
This morning a letter from Judith.
"Do not laugh at me," she writes.

"The road to Paris is paved with good intentions.

I really could not help it.

Delphine put her great arm round my would-be sequestered and meditative self and carried it off bodily, and here it is in the midst of lunches, picture-shows, dinners, suppers, theatres and dances; and if you laugh, you will make me humiliated when I confess that it is thoroughly enjoying itself." Laugh at her, dear woman?
I am only too glad that she can fling her Winter Garment of Repentance into the Fires of Paris Springtide.

She has little enough enjoyment in friendless London.