WHITEWASH
Obviously this had been written before the scene of the previous afternoon. She consulted the postmark and found she was right.
"Two o'clock!" She glanced at her watch. "Half-past twelve already!" Hastily pinning on her toque and selecting a blue chiffon veil that disguised while it enhanced her charm, she pulled out the despatch-box from its place of concealment. It was very heavy. Wrapping it about in thick paper till it resembled a large package of books, she addressed it to Mme. Tollé, Room 148, S. S. Germanic, in case anything should prevent her interview with the mysterious woman. Going down-stairs, she notified the butler that she would not be home to lunch. Then she ate a cracker and drank a glass of sherry, for her emotions had consumed her strength. This done, she started on her journey.
At the door a qualm of fear caught her. Her aunt's words rang in her ears: "Drop that scallawag Pole if you want to save yourself." But the warning passed unheeded. Her love, now watered by her tears, had grown in strength and luxuriance. She would serve him in this last re-
