“Why shouldn’t she have heard my name?  And why in the world should it upset her?”

Madame de Trezac heaved a hesitating sigh.  “Isn’t it better to be frank?  She thinks she has reason to feel badly—­they all do.”

“To feel badly?  Because her son wants to marry me?”

“Of course they know that’s impossible.”  Madame de Trezac smiled compassionately.  “But they’re afraid of your spoiling his other chances.”

Undine paused a moment before answering, “It won’t be impossible when my marriage is annulled,” she said.

The effect of this statement was less electrifying than she had hoped.  Her visitor simply broke into a laugh.  “My dear child!  Your marriage annulled?  Who can have put such a mad idea into your head?”

Undine’s gaze followed the pattern she was tracing with a lustrous nail on her embroidered bedspread.  “Raymond himself,” she let fall.

This time there was no mistaking the effect she produced.  Madame de Trezac, with a murmured “Oh,” sat gazing before her as if she had lost the thread of her argument; and it was only after a considerable interval that she recovered it sufficiently to exclaim:  “They’ll never hear of it—­absolutely never!”

“But they can’t prevent it, can they?”

“They can prevent its being of any use to you.”

“I see,” Undine pensively assented.

She knew the tone she had taken was virtually a declaration of war; but she was in a mood when the act of defiance, apart from its strategic value, was a satisfaction in itself.  Moreover, if she could not gain her end without a fight it was better that the battle should be engaged while Raymond’s ardour was at its height.  To provoke immediate hostilities she sent for him the same afternoon, and related, quietly and without comment, the incident of her visit to the Duchess, and the mission with which Madame de Trezac had been charged.  In the circumstances, she went on to explain, it was manifestly impossible that she should continue to receive his visits; and she met his wrathful comments on his relatives by the gently but firmly expressed resolve not to be the cause of any disagreement between himself and his family.

XXX

A few days after her decisive conversation with Raymond de Chelles, Undine, emerging from the doors of the Nouveau Luxe, where she had been to call on the newly-arrived Mrs. Homer Branney, once more found herself face to face with Elmer Moffatt.

This time there was no mistaking his eagerness to be recognized.  He stopped short as they met, and she read such pleasure in his eyes that she too stopped, holding out her hand.

“I’m glad you’re going to speak to me,” she said, and Moffatt reddened at the allusion.

“Well, I very nearly didn’t.  I didn’t know you.  You look about as old as you did when I first landed at Apex—­remember?”