“What⁠—what do you mean?” I faltered.

He looked at me, inscrutable, dominating.

“Only⁠—that I know now what I have to do.”

His words sent a shiver through me. There was a determination behind them that I did not understand⁠—and it frightened me.

We neither of us said any more until we got back to the hotel. I went straight up to Suzanne. She was lying on her bed reading, and did not look in the least as though she had a headache.

“Here reposes the perfect gooseberry,” she remarked. “Alias the tactful chaperone. Why, Anne dear, what’s the matter?”

For I had burst into a flood of tears.

I told her about the cats⁠—I felt it wasn’t fair to tell her about Colonel Race. But Suzanne is very sharp. I think she saw that there was something more behind.