"Six weeks!" gasped Kitty. It seemed like a lifetime. She might be married by then. Who knew what might take place long before six weeks were out? "Yes, yes, that is all right," she said.
She took the little purse out of her pocket; it bore her own initials. Madame was not for a single moment surprised at seeing it. Kitty tumbled the contents on the table.
"There," she said again. "There are one hundred pounds. Count them."
The dressmaker bent over the notes and gold. She counted hastily.
"One hundred pounds and five shillings," she said.
She pushed the five shillings back to Kitty.
"No; keep it as a present," said the girl restlessly.
"Certainly not, miss," replied madame, with dignity.
She made out a receipt for Kitty and handed it to her. Kitty picked up the empty purse and left the room.
When she was gone, madame was about to put the notes and gold into a safe place in her writing table, when she was attracted by a little piece of paper which had fallen on the floor. She took it up, and opened it without having any special reason for doing so. The piece of paper contained nothing but an address: "Katherine Hunt, 24 Child's Gardens, Bayswater."