like the d'Orobelli, who simply extracted an apparatus from her bag and sent boldly the powder flying in all directions.
Again he touched Miss Fosdick's hand. "There now," he said, "you're feeling better, aren't you? There's no need of ever going back to Mrs. Weatherby. Never again."
Miss Fosdick admitted almost grudgingly that there did seem to be hope.
"And now we can start back to Brinoë. I have a fiacre outside. I will pay you a week's wages in advance and you can go back to the pension."
Miss Fosdick thought perhaps she had better take less than that. She doubted whether she would last a week. But Mr. Winnery reassured her. "Mrs. Weatherby," he said, "always preaches self-confidence is the first of the virtues. Besides, I am certain that you are just the secretary I've been seeking. I'm sure," he added with meaning, "that you'll last for months and for years."
They went through the empty hall where the dead leaves still rustled in the draught from the open door, and on the steps leading down into the garden Mr. Winnery halted a moment to regard the view.
"It is a beautiful place," he said. "It would be a splendid place to live, only I hear the Princess d'Orobelli has bought it for herself."
They drove back to Brinoë, where Mr. Winnery escorted her to her pension, and the next morning at
