“Is she afraid of me?”

He smiled:  “I don’t think so.”  And his smile angered his sister.

“Very well,” she said, biting her lip.

For a few moments she sat there deliberating, her pointed patent-leather toe tapping the polished floor.  Then she stood up, with decision: 

“There is no use in our quarrelling, Louis—­until the time comes when some outsider forces us into an unhappy misunderstanding.  Kiss me good-bye, dear.”

She lifted her face; he kissed her; and her hand closed impulsively on his arm: 

“Louis!  Louis!  I love you.  I am so proud of you—­I—­you know I love you, don’t you?”

“Yes—­I think so.”

“You know I am devoted to your happiness!—­your real happiness—­which those blinded eyes in that obstinate head of yours refuse to see.  Believe me—­believe me, dear, that your real happiness is not in this pretty, strange girl’s keeping.  No, no, no!  You are wrong, Louis—­terribly and hopelessly wrong!  Because happiness for you lies in the keeping of another woman—­a woman of your own world, dear—­of your own kind—­a gently-bred, lovable, generous girl whom you, deep in your heart and soul, love, unknowingly—­have always loved!”

He shook his head, slowly, looking down into his sister’s eyes.

She said, almost frightened: 

“You—­you won’t do it—­suddenly—­without letting us know—­will you, Louis?”

“What?”

“Marry this girl!”

“No,” he said, “it is not likely.”

“But you—­you mean to marry her?”

“I want to....  But it is not likely to happen—­for a while.”

“How long?”

“I don’t know.”

She drew a tremulous breath of relief, looking up into his face.  Then her eyes narrowed; she thought a moment, and her gaze became preoccupied and remote, and her lips grew firm with the train of thought she was pursuing.

He put his arms around her and kissed her again; and she felt the boyish appeal in it and her lip quivered.  But she could not respond, could not consider for one moment, could not permit her sympathy for him to enlist her against what she was devoutly convinced were his own most vital interests—­his honour, his happiness, the success of his future career.

She said with tears in her eyes:  “Louis, I love you dearly.  If God will grant us all a little patience and a little wisdom there will be a way made clear to all of us.  Good-bye.”

[Illustration:  “’Your—­profession—­must be an exceedingly interesting one,’ said Lily.”]

Whether it was that the Almighty did not grant Mrs. Collis the patience to wait until a way was made clear, or whether another letter from her father decided her to clear that way for herself, is uncertain; but one day in March Valerie received a letter from Mrs. Collis; and answered it; and the next morning she shortened a seance with Querida, exchanged her costume for her street-clothes, and hastened to her apartments, where Mrs. Collis was already awaiting her in the little sitting-room.