The afternoon had suddenly darkened as if a pall had been unfurled across the sky. The streets without had burst into a forest of umbrellas, already shining, and agitated with curiously unsteady movements as the bearers hurried this way and that. The rain was still falling slowly, but the drops were large. A little flurry of wind lashed the window with them as the coupé made its way through the mêlée of vehicles and over the car-tracks at Lotta's Fountain. An eery, yellowish light seemed to be diffusing itself from the horizon, and to have crept along under the dark cope of the storm.
Letitia leaned forward, looking out at the figures of the passers-by, butting against the wind with lowered umbrellas, and then jerking them aside and giving a scared look up and down for a threatening car. Gault, leaning back, could see her profile clearly defined against the pale square of the window. On the little seat in front of them she had dropped all her parcels, and a bunch of violets that she had thrust into a convenience for that purpose filled the carriage with its soft and subtle fragrance. Outside, the bells of the cars clanged furiously, and at moments the rain was dashed against the window and then diverted.
"Well, Tishy," he said, "what 's the com-
