"What can I do?" she said to herself, as her upper lip twisted and
tortured the lower one.
Presently she caught up her purse, went to her room, where she put on
her walking things without summoning Blanche, and stealing down the
stairs, so as to be unheard by Margaret, she made her way to the back
gate of the Palazzo, and so to the streets leading to the Piazza.
William had taken the gondola to the Piazzetta, so she felt herself
safe.
She entered the telegraphic office at the western end of the Piazza, and
sent a telegram to England that nearly emptied her purse of francs. When
she came out she was as pale as she had been flushed before--a little,
terror-stricken figure, passing in a miserable abstraction through the
intricate backways which took her home.
"It won't be published for ten days. There's time. It's only a question
of money," she said to herself, feverishly--"only a question of money!"
* * * * *
All the rest of the day, Kitty was at once so restless and so languid
that to amuse her was difficult. Ashe was quite grateful to his amazing
mother-in-law for the plan of the evening.
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