There was another silence.  Then she spoke a little abruptly.

“I wonder whether you really love me, Philip....  No! don’t, please—­don’t try to answer such a foolish question.  Go to bed and sleep well now.  You’ve had a trying day.  Good night, dear!”

He had barely time to say good night before he heard the ring off.  He set down the receiver.  Somehow, there was a sensation of relief in having been, although indirectly, in touch with her.  The idea of the letter from Sylvanus Power affected him only hazily.  The crowded events of the day had somehow or other dulled his power of concentrated thought.  He felt a curious sense of passivity.  He undressed without conscious effort, closed his eyes, and slept until he was awakened by the movements of the valet about the room.

Philip was still seated over his breakfast, reading the paper and finishing his coffee, when the door was thrown suddenly open, and Beatrice entered tumultuously.  She laughed at his air of blank surprise.

“You booby!” she exclaimed.  “I couldn’t help coming in to wish you good morning.  I have just discovered that my hotel is quite close by here.  Lucky, isn’t it, except that I am going to move.  Good morning, Mr. Serious Face!” she went on, leaning towards him, her hands behind her, her lips held out invitingly.

He set down his paper, kissed her on the cheek, and looked inside the coffeepot.

“Have you had your breakfast?”

“Hours ago.  I was too excited to sleep when I got to bed, and yet I feel so well.  Philip, where’s Wall Street?  Won’t you take me there?”

He shook his head.

“I am expecting a visitor, and I have piles of work to do.”

She made a grimace.

“I know I shall be terrified when I march up to the counter of the bank and say I’ve come for twenty thousand pounds!”

“You must transfer it to a current account,” he explained, “in your own name.  Have you any papers with you—­for identification, I mean?”

She nodded.

“I’ve thought of all that.  I’ve a photograph and a passport and some letters.  It isn’t that I’m really afraid, but I hate being alone, and you look so nice, Philip dear.  I always loved you in blue serge, and I adore your eyeglass.  You really have been clever in the small things you have done to change your appearance.  Perhaps you are right not to come, though,” she went on, looking in the mirror.  “These clothes are the best I could get at a minute’s notice.  Mr. Dane was really quite nice, but he hadn’t the least idea how long it takes a woman to prepare for a journey.  Never mind, you wait until I get back here this afternoon!  I am going round to all the shops, and I am going to bring the clothes I buy away with me.  Then I am going to lock myself in my room and change everything.  I am going to have some of those funny little patent shoes, and silk stockings—­and, oh, well, all sorts of things you wouldn’t understand about.  And do try and cheer up before I get back, please, Philip.  Twelve months ago you would have thought all this Paradise.  Oh, I can’t stop a moment longer!” she wound up, throwing away the cigarette she had taken from the box and lit.  “I’m off now.  And, Philip, don’t you dare to go out of these rooms until I come back!”