“I have put her to bed,” said Laurence, in a whisper, as she cautiously closed the door.  “The poor woman!  Oh, what a charming bracelet!  It is a true pearl, naturally?”

Her roving eye had immediately, with an infallible instinct, caught sight of a bracelet which, in taking stock of her possessions, Sophia had accidentally left on the piano.  She picked it up, and then put it down again.

“Yes,” said Sophia.  She was about to add:  “It’s nearly all the jewellery I possess;” but she stopped.

Laurence moved towards Sophia’s bed, and stood over it as she had often done in her quality as nurse.  She had taken off her gloves, and she made a piquant, pretty show, with her thirty years, and her agreeable, slightly roguish face, in which were mingled the knowingness of a street boy and the confidence of a woman who has ceased to be surprised at the influence of her snub nose on a highly intelligent man.

“Did she tell you what they had quarrelled about?” Laurence inquired abruptly.  And not only the phrasing of the question, but the assured tone in which it was uttered, showed that Laurence meant to be the familiar of Sophia.

“Not a word!” said Sophia.

In this brief question and reply, all was crudely implied that had previously been supposed not to exist.  The relations between the two women were altered irretrievably in a moment.

“It must have been her fault!” said Laurence.  “With men she is insupportable.  I have never understood how that poor woman has made her way.  With women she is charming.  But she seems to be incapable of not treating men like dogs.  Some men adore that, but they are few.  Is it not?”

Sophia smiled.

“I have told her!  How many times have I told her!  But it is useless.  It is stronger than she is, and if she finishes on straw one will be able to say that it was because of that.  But truly she ought not to have asked him here!  Truly that was too much!  If he knew ...!”

“Why not?” asked Sophia, awkwardly.  The answer startled her.

“Because her room has not been disinfected.”

“But I thought all the flat had been disinfected?”

“All except her room.”

“But why not her room?”

Laurence shrugged her shoulders.  “She did not want to disturb her things!  Is it that I know, I?  She is like that.  She takes an idea —­and then, there you are!”

“She told me every room had been disinfected.”

“She told the same to the police and the doctor.”

“Then all the disinfection is useless?”

“Perfectly!  But she is like that.  This flat might be very remunerative; but with her, never!  She has not even paid for the furniture—­after two years!”

“But what will become of her?” Sophia asked.

“Ah—­that!” Another shrug of the shoulders.  “All that I know is that it will be necessary for me to leave here.  The last time I brought Monsieur Cerf here, she was excessively rude to him.  She has doubtless told you about Monsieur Cerf?”