"Please don't ask me any questions tonight, Jack. I'm most dead. No; I didn't have a rough crossing, but I have never arrived anywhere alone before in my whole life. I knew I could call up Frank at his club in London, but I did not wish to see him first. Still, I don't care what he thinks, since I have lost all faith in men. But I don't see why some one did not meet me at the station here. I telegraphed from Liverpool that I was on the way."

Jack shook her head.[36]

[36]

"Curious dear, but we never received your telegram."

"Oh, well;" Frieda added more indulgently, "I didn't exactly telegraph myself, but I gave the money to a boy and told him what to say. Perhaps he made a mistake, or kept the money, or something," she ended nonchalantly. For they were now entering the great hall at Kent House and Frieda realized that she did not care very much for small things, so grateful was she to be again with her sister.

Impulsively she turned and embraced her.

Perhaps it was because Frieda was tired, but Jack could see that she was not so unaffected by what she had been passing through as Olive had imagined.

It is true Frieda looked as much like an exquisite wax doll as ever. Her eyes were as large and delicately blue, and her hair was a mass of soft yellow curls; yet there was a subtle change in her expression.

Olive had led the way into the library.

"We won't talk about anything until you like, Frieda," Jack whispered.

"Will you go up to your rooms now or have something to eat first down here with Olive and me?" she asked.[37]

[37]

Frieda permitted Olive and Jack to remove her coat and hat. A few moments later, however, she announced that she preferred going upstairs to bed. So Jack finally bade her goodnight, after arranging that she was to ring her bell for breakfast, when she wished it the next morning.

When Frieda rang for breakfast it was nearly eleven o'clock and Jack went into her room with the maid who carried the tray.

Frieda ate her morning repast languidly, while her sister sat beside her talking of trivial things.

"Where is Olive?" Frieda inquired finally. And when 

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