"That's enough," said Genevra. "Assez, assez! You'll make the poor girl faint into the arms of Mr. Beddoes. But I'll wager another gentleman would be there first to catch her."

"Is it true," asked Clotilde, "that you will marry this Mr. Beddoes, Melisande?"

"It is not yet decided."

"It is a mistake," said Clotilde. "I see it in your eyes. A great mistake."

"How can you be sure of that?" demanded Genevra. "One man's meat is another's poison. One girl's pleasure another's pain."

"Mademoiselle is ready?" asked Elise.

Melisande said she was, and the ivory velvet gown was slipped over her many petticoats.

"Ah," said Elise, "c'est charmante. Mademoiselle will be the belle of the soirSe."

"Traitress!" cried Genevra. "What of little Genevra!"

"Is charming also," said Elise. "But Mademoiselle Melisande ... ah, parfaitel"

"I have the prettier dress to-night," said Melisande.

"Is it fair?" cried Genevra. "Your prey is trapped. I have yet mine to win. Do you know Teddy's family are trying to force him into marriage with a lady?"

"He'll not be forced," said Melisande. "You'll see to that."

"Poor Teddy!" sighed Genevra.

Clotilde said: "You are in love, Melisande, and it is not with the lawyer."

"I think," said Melisande, "and everyone thinks, it would be a good marriage."

"But a good marriage is not necessarily a happy one."

"Love!" said Elise. "V amour > ma chirie ... it is the best in the world and the ... how do you say ... the droit de naissance of Mademoiselle."

"Love, love, love!" cried Genevra. "Can you live on love? Can you eat love? Does it make a roof over your head?"

"Nothing else matters," said Clotilde.

"Agreed," said Genevra. "you already have the food and the roof. What if you have not?"

"All is well lost for love," said Clotilde.

"All is well lost for a crust of bread if you're starving. You, my dear Clo, have never starved. That's quite clear to me. You have never seen the inside of a factory, have you? I have. I say: 'Give me the food, give me a roof, give me freedom from earning a living, and then ... if there's anything more to be handed out ... give me love.' I say to Melly: 'Marry your lawyer. Play my game.' It's the same, you know, only I'm playing for higher stakes. I'll be 'my lady' one of these days. I started lower but I'm going farther up; but it's the same old ladder we're climbing. Fermor Holland has charm. I don't deny he's a temptation. But don't be foolish, my child. It wouldn't last, and then what would happen? The best would be that you'd be passed on like an old dress. First for the use of the lady, then my lady's maid, then the parlourmaid, then the housemaid ... then the old slut who mops the kitchen floor ... and after that the dust bin. No, dears, I know too much. I've seen too much. Don't let yourself get passed down. Marriage is enduring; love passes. Don't be deceived by the sugar and spice. The lawyer is a sensible man. Would he marry you but for the fact that your father's making it worth his while?"

"My father!" cried Melisande.

"Of course, ducky. You're one of the lucky ones. You're like our Lucie. Her father bought her a nice promising lawyer; your father's doing the same. It's only the poor like myself who have to fend for themselves. That's why I'm fighting for Teddy. Teddy don't want a dowry, so all he's got to want is Genevra. It's hard, but it's been done before, and what others can do so can I."

"A dowry ..." Melisande was repeating.

"I listen. I keep my eyes open."

"Your manners are shocking," said Clotilde. "Nothing will improve them, I fear. Even when you become a peeress you'll be listening at keyholes."

"They say listeners never hear any good of themselves," said Genevra with a grimace. "Who cares? It's as well to know what people say of you—good or bad. And whoever says good of anyone behind their backs? My little habits have helped me along. That's why I know what a kind papa our Melisande has got. You're a lucky girl, Melly dear. He's a very fond papa. Madam told Polly that he's gone thoroughly into the history of your Mr. Beddoes and has satisfied himself that the young man is a suitable husband for his little ewe lamb. On the day you become Mrs. Beddoes a substantial sum will be handed to the lawyer and much good business will be put in his way. I'd say he was getting a double bargain. Dear little Melly and a fortune! I'd say he's coming off slightly better than Lucie's Francis. Why, what's the matter, dear?"

"I did not know this," said Melisande.

Clotilde, Genevra and Elise were watching her. Her face was white and her eyes like blazing green fire. But she was silent for a while.

Clotilde said: "Genevra ... you fool!"

"No," said Melisande then. "No, no! Thank you, Genevra. You are the wise one who listens at doors. Thank you. I see I am the fool, Clotilde, because I believed that he wanted to marry me, I did not know of this dowry. You say I have a fond Papa. I suppose that's true. How much is it worth to marry me! A large sum, you say. Then I am not worth very much by myself, am I. It is not a complimentary, is it ... that such a large sum has to be offered as ... a bride?"

She began to laugh. Genevra was beginning to be alarmed by what she had disclosed. Clotilde was the first to recover herself.

"Melisande," she said, putting her arm about her, "it is a custom, you know. All young ladies of good birth have a dowry. It is merely part of a custom,"

"There is no need to explain these matters to me," said Melisande, her eyes flashing. "I know now. I have been blind-folded. Those who are supposed to love me put bandages on my eyes. Thank you, Genevra, for tearing it away. Oh, how I wish I were as clever as you! How I wish I had lived with you in your garret and seen what men really were, in the beginning. We are different, Genevra. You saw clearly and I have been stupid ... stupid all the time. Now I see. Now I understand. And it is the good men I despise the most. The lawyer who is so anxious to marry me ... for my dowry! He is yet another. Thank you, Genevra. Thank you for explaining what I ought to have known."

"Here," said Genevra, "you'd better calm yourself, ducky."

"You see, dear," said Clotilde, "they only want the best for you. Don't blame them for that. Don't blame him."

"I should have been told. Don't you see ... it is the pretence, that hypocrisy that I cannot endure. They deceive me, all of them, except ..."

"I've been a fool," said Genevra. "I thought you knew this. You must have known about Lucie."

"I am a fool. I know nothing. I am blind ... blind... . And I do not see until the truth is pushed under my nose by kind people like you." She put her arms about Genevra and Clotilde. "Oh, Genevra, Clotilde, you are my friends. You do not pretend to be good. I hate all men and women who pretend to be good, for they are the bad ones. I hate that man now. I never loved him, but I admired him. I respected him. What an idiot!"

Elise said sharply: "Do not, Mademoiselle. I beg ... be calm. You must not laugh so. It is bad."

Genevra put her arms round Melisande and hugged her. "Don't worry, Melly. We'll look after you. I'm sorry I said what I did. I thought you knew ... honest."

"It is for the best perhaps," said Clotilde. "It was wrong, that marriage. I knew it."

"Melly," said Genevra, "you've got the light of battle in your eyes. What are you going to do?"

Melisande looked from one to the other. Clotilde knew. The battle between security and adventure had been won for adventure.

Melisande threw out her arms suddenly. "I am free!" she cried. "Now I will be no one but myself. I will not be sold with a dowry to make up the weight. I feel as though I have been laced too tightly and now I am free. Now I shall do what I wish ... not what others wish for me."

"You look wild," said Genevra uneasily. "Are you sure you want to appear to-night?"

"I have something to do to-night, Genevra. I am in love ... in love with my new life."

The ivory velvet encasing the slim figure was a triumph, thought Fenella; and never had Melisande appeared to be so beautiful. What had happened to her to-night? Her eyes were like flashing emeralds.

She seemed so sure of herself. She had thrown aside that modesty which had been so appealing, and yet she was more attractive without it.

Poor Mr. Beddoes was looking bewildered, as though he scarcely recognized his bride-to-be.

Melisande was saying: "I must have a word with you, Mr. Beddoes; I have something to say to you."

"You have your answer for me?"

"Yes." She smiled at him. She had lost her pity. It was not mere dislike she felt for Mr. Beddoes. To her he represented Hypocrisy, her newly found hate. From now on she would be one of the bold and adventurous. She hated shams. She hated the man who said: 'I love you' when he meant 'I love your dowry and the good business which would be put in my way if I married you.' She loved the bold adventurer who promised love and passion without lies.

"I can see what it is," he said. "Oh, Melisande, we shall be happy."

"If a substantial sum of money and influential clients could make us happy, we should be very happy indeed, should we not?" she flashed.

"Melisande?"

"You look surprised. Why? I know that is what this marriage means to you. What have I ... I myself to do with it? It might have been Genevra, Clotilde, Daisy, Kate ... anybody Madam Cardingly put before you. But it was Melisande St. Martin whom you wished to marry, for her father has provided for her so adequately."