not married nearly as well as herself. She had believed, of course, that her millionaire husband would take care of their daughter until she married wealth, probably Pablo Mendoza. Now one of the sisters, whom Carmelita had never seen, had died and her share, according to the will, was being forwarded to Carmelita.
Three days ago Carmelita would have considered it a godsend. It would have bought new clothes, replaced Laura with an efficient maid, secured untold pleasures. But now it would not pay for one month, the rent of this cottage she had fallen in love with and signed the lease on that very morning. Nevertheless—Carmelita was thoughtful—she must make some explanation of sudden wealth—she wondered if she dared—it was really a cheque and Dudley had not seen the amount—a small white lie at the most.
He was taking a shower-bath and she waited until, refreshed by the stinging cold water and the fresh linen he had changed into, he announced himself ready to descend to the Hodges and dinner. Rao-Singh, mercifully, Dudley thought, was not staying, and the rest of the week-end guests had departed that morning.
"Do you like this section of the country,
