I must--I _must!_" Then as she put the letter away she reflected that she couldn't amuse herself with Kendal without treachery to their artistic relationship; there would be somehow an outrage in it.

And she would not amuse herself with him; she would sacrifice that, and be quite frank and simple always.

So that when it came to pass--here Elfrida retired into a lower depth of consciousness--there would be only a little pity and a little pain, and no reproach or regret.

There was a delay in the arrival of the next letter which Elfrida felt to be unaccountable, a delay of nearly three weeks.

She took it with an odd rush of feeling from the hand of the housemaid who brought it up, and locked herself in alone with it.
A few days later, driving through Bryanston Street in a hansom, Elfrida saw the windows of Kendal's studio wide open.