Evarne radiated with delight and relief when this Nile cruise came to an end. She could not avoid the mortifying conviction that she had proved herself very childish and incompetent in having allowed a state of affairs so painful—let alone dangerous to herself and her future—to have come to pass, and to continue. Lucinda, ignorant as a kitten on Egyptology and all kindred subjects, had been wont to wax enthusiastic over what she appeared to consider Evarne's quite superhuman fund of knowledge and marvellous intelligence, as contrasted with her own much-lamented but unconquerable silliness. Yet the girl guessed shrewdly that had the situations been reversed, the frivolous, empty-headed Lucinda, so given to harping on the topic of her own incompetence, would have proved an infinitely more resourceful and successful tactician.

Delightful indeed was it to see the last of the Belmonts—both so objectionable in their respective ways—and when she found herself once again alone with Morris at "Mon Bijou," she was gay and light-hearted as any child in her renewed happiness. Florelli's studio saw her not. She devoted her whole time to Morris, as bright, appreciative and amusing a little comrade as man could wish.

But, alack and alas! this sojourn in the oasis of contentment was destined to be but brief. One morning, not long after their return, as they sat at breakfast on the verandah, Bianca entered with the post. No letters ever came for Evarne save bills, which she always passed straight over to Morris; but this time her name appeared on the face of a delicate pink envelope. On the back were the initials "L. B.," intertwined into a large and involved gold monogram.

The whole thing was highly perfumed, and its recipient sniffed with exaggerated disdain even before she had opened the envelope and mastered its contents. When she had done that she looked up in genuine indignation as she murmured, "The impertinence of the woman!"

Morris, who had been watching her, now reached over for the letter, and likewise perused the "impertinence." It apparently did not strike him in the same light, for, as he laid it down, a meditative grunt of approval accompanied the action.

"I think we will accept," he said.

"Oh no, no—impossible!" was Evarne's instantaneous and startled response.

The letter that had created such emphatic difference of opinion ran as follows:—

"Dearest Evarne (for so I always think of you),—Absence makes the heart grow fonder, so they say, and I find it true that it wasn't until the radiant time on 'The Radiant Isis' was over that I realised how very attached I'd become to you, dear. I do hope we shall mature our friendship begun under such delightful auspices, so I am writing to ask you if you will become my guest in Paris for some weeks. Do come, dear; I am so looking forward to seeing you again.

"I'm well aware when I ask this that Mr. Kenyon is the fair Evarne's devoted shadow, and I mustn't dare to enjoy the sweet charm of the rose without its accompanying thorn (of course that is quite between ourselves, dear); but Tony is writing to him, for he has promised (dear fellow!) to take Mr. Kenyon off on long masculine jaunts (and we won't inquire too deeply where they go, will we, dear?) while you and I are enjoying the Paris shops and other feminine frivolities in one another's society to our heart's content.

"I am looking forward to a most enjoyable time, darling Evarne.

"Your affectionate friend,

"Lucinda Belmont.

"P.S.—We shall be both getting our new season's 'rigs-out,' shan't we? I know of such a heavenly place for hats."

"Oh, indeed, I don't want to go! I should hate it. I can't bear either Mr. or Mrs. Belmont," cried Evarne, after a silence long enough to show only too plainly that Morris was not going to readily yield to her desires in the matter.

On the contrary, he proceeded to argue. At her age she ought not to seek to bury herself in the solitude of studios or a villa remote from the centres of civilisation. She owed it to herself to be seen and admired. She must go more amongst people, and the companionship of a good-natured, clever woman of the world—such as was Mrs. Belmont—would be of vast benefit to her in every way.

The girl retorted that she had no objection to the centres of civilisation as such, nor to meeting as many of Morris's friends as he wished, but that she would not visit Mrs. Belmont, with whom she had not a taste or a thought in common; who was, in fact, a person entirely and absolutely hateful in her eyes.

Her voice quite quivered with apprehensive distress, but when Morris proceeded to speak on Lucinda's behalf, lauding her tact and worldly knowledge, Evarne rose in indignant wrath.

If those were the qualities that were characteristic of Mrs. Belmont, then, for her part, she hoped never to become tainted by their possession. "But," she declared, "without being either as tactful, or as wise, or as experienced as that middle-aged designing creature, I'm not quite the abject fool she seems to take me for. She need not think that her sickening show of affection towards me has ever deceived me one jot. I put up with it and her in Egypt because I couldn't help myself, but I'm not going to her house, and you can write and tell her so, for I shan't even answer her hateful, hypocritical letter; so there!"

Having delivered herself of this ultimatum, she flung her serviette on the table and swept away, heedlessly dragging over her chair with the train of her morning gown. Morris gazed in amazement at her empty place.

It was the first serious clash of wills that had ever risen between the girl and her lover. The dispute was ardent and protracted, but very soon it became evident that both her coaxing and her resolutions were equally vain when opposed to his wishes. While ostentatiously leaving her perfect freedom of choice for herself, he was going to Paris!

So, with the utmost reluctance and a considerable sense of humiliation, Evarne submitted as gracefully as might be. She could not bring herself to so far cherish her dignity as to remain haughtily alone at "Mon Bijou," knowing Morris to be once more within the range of the wiles and allurements of a clever and unscrupulous demi-mondaine. Although she believed that, up to the present, she still retained her sway upon his affections, his own teachings led her not to place too confiding a reliance upon the Joseph-like qualities of the most devoted of lovers.

Never before had she bade adieu to her beautiful brilliant room with such a heavy heart. She stood in the doorway, gazing longingly around, imprinting every corner, every contrast of colour, freshly upon her memory. How happy she had been at "Mon Bijou"! How dear it all was to her!

Both common-sense and diplomacy prompted her to greet Lucinda with smiling, albeit somewhat stiff, cordiality, and she effectively concealed her scorn when her hostess, gushingly embracing her, put her face close up to hers and made a hasty little smacking sound into the air, first on one side, then on the other—Lucinda's only conception of how to kiss another woman.

Morris had given Evarne a cheque-book, and opened a generous account for her at his bank, and for the first few days the programme promised in the invitation was carried out to the letter. He and Tony did, in fact, derive whatever satisfaction and benefit was to be gained from one another's society, while their female belongings amused themselves together by shopping and such-like diversions. The girl could not but acknowledge that Lucinda's vivacity and bright flow of talk were far from unamusing, yet to recognise the efficiency of the weapons of one whom she felt to be her remorseless foe did not at all ease her mind or soften her reciprocal feelings of enmity.

Very soon the foreseen change came to pass.

"It's absolutely stupid to have nice men on hand if one is to see nothing of them. One might just as well be a miserable Egyptian woman right away," announced Lucinda, and none could contradict her words. "It's too mean of me to bore dear Evarne by keeping her all to my dull self," was her next statement. And so the divided expeditions of the party ceased, and then it was not long ere the old miserable state of affairs that had ruined the cruise of "The Radiant Isis" was again in full swing.

But even this was not enough. Next came the suggestion that tÊte-À-tÊte expeditions were, after all, better. Lucinda was sure that, as Evarne was so clever, and an artist too, she, of course, must want to go round the galleries and see the statues and such-like things. Lucinda herself was so very silly she couldn't appreciate old masters one bit. Then she got such dreadful headaches in the close atmosphere. It must be lovely to be strong just like a man, as dear Evarne was, but for her part she got utterly exhausted in half an hour. Really, she must reluctantly relinquish these delightful expeditions to dear Tony. Tony had quite gone off his head lately; he had actually taken to trying to improve his mind. She couldn't imagine why! As if dear Tony wasn't quite clever enough as it was for a silly, frivolous little woman like herself, who only cared for chiffons. Perhaps it was the beneficial result of Evarne's society on board "The Radiant Isis." She only wished she was half as clever as dear Evarne; cultivated women acquired such a good influence over men—so much more powerful and lasting than silly, frivolous creatures like herself could ever hope to gain.

Evarne hated her! Hated her for her gibes, her scarce-concealed mockery, and, above all, she loathed her for the sarcastic flattery and never-failing show of affection under which thin veil she sought to cover her intention of stealing the girl's rich lover, if she could encompass that act. It was a method that made retort difficult; and, moreover, Evarne was under the disadvantage of still retaining her over-sensitive self-respect. It was revolting to her to openly admit that she was engaged in a vulgar struggle with another woman—and a woman so far beneath herself—for the possession of a man.

Now she said simply and frankly that her interest in museums had always depended entirely upon Morris's society, and that without him such things did not appeal to her much. But, far from pleased by this statement, he frowned darkly, spoke of neglected opportunities, and discourtesy to her host. Finally he acknowledged that—relying upon her being otherwise pleasantly occupied—he had arranged to take Mrs. Belmont for some expeditions in a certain swift motor-car that only accommodated two. Thus, short of creating a scene, the girl found herself faced by the alternatives of remaining alone in the flat, obviously sulking, or endeavouring to cover her defeat by accepting Tony's eager escort and pretending to enjoy visiting the antiquities and art treasures in the Louvre.

She had already implored Morris to leave Paris, but he had turned a deaf ear to her appeal. Now, although she managed to smile at Tony and to declare, gaily enough, her willingness to further encourage him in improving his mind together with her own, she was torn by agony of spirit at this new proof of her beloved's rapidly maturing infatuation for her rival.

Nevertheless, it all had the advantage of preventing the final blow from falling as a bolt from the blue. Nor was the hour far off.