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“And one day the nieces came to the conclusion that, as they would have expressed it, ‘no useful purpose would be served’ by their continued attendance on a relative who had so thoroughly emancipated herself from the sheltering protection of their wings. The aunt bore the announcement of their departure with a cheerfulness that was almost disconcerting.

“‘It’s time you went home and had those headaches seen to by a specialist,’ was her comment on the situation.

“The homeward journey of the Brimley Bomefields was a veritable retreat from Moscow, and what made it the more bitter was the fact that the Moscow, in this case, was not overwhelmed with fire and ashes, but merely extravagantly over-illuminated.

“From mutual friends and acquaintances they sometimes get glimpses of their prodigal relative, who has settled down into a confirmed gambling maniac, living on such salvage of income as obliging moneylenders have left at her disposal.

“So you need not be surprised,” concluded Clovis, “if they do wear a depressed look in public.”

“Which is Veronique?” asked the Baroness.

“The most depressed-looking of the three,” said Clovis.