She raised herself on her elbow and looked across the room at the runaway.
So a woman could sleep whom the casual kindness of an acquaintance had saved from shipwreck; so a woman could sleep who had poured out her soul to a stranger.
Someone was tapping at the door. It was late. Ten, eleven, ah, quite that; and Monsieur had come for Madame and brought her clothes. And Miladi said Madame was to dress in her room, as one was so cramped up here.
The maid waited discreetly at the door, her sharp, foreign eyes taking in everything, the other woman huddled up in bed, her clothes flung all over the floor, her gems scattered recklessly on the table.
Susan slipped on the dressing-gown that had been brought her, and was following, Fifine going down in front as a picket, to see that the coast was clear; when she heard her neighbour calling. Lady Cummerbatch was sitting up in bed.
"I made a fool of myself last night, didn't I?" she said. "Why didn't you smother me with my pillow? Don't be afraid, I'm as wise as an old hen this morning." She pulled the girl close enough to kiss. "You are a dear; you are a dear!" she cried.
Stretching out her arm to the dressing-table, she caught up something from its disordered glitter, squeezing it into Susan's hand.
"Keep it," she said. "I know you've heaps of your own. I saw them last night. But I want you to have something to remember me by. I can do nothing for anybody but give them things.... Do! Please me! I'd have thrown myself out of that window if you hadn't been kind to me."
The girl looked doubtfully at the diamond star that had been thrust upon her.
"If you don't care to wear anything I've worn," said the woman, "put it by. Who knows? Some day you may be glad to have it. If it does come from a worthless creature, it's fit to sell. I've heard of rich women whose husbands ruined them, and who had to pawn their jewels.... How do we know what will happen to you and me?"