Chapter One<br >blues and with a morning-after<br >could not account for. It was as<br >depression had seeped into her<br > She rose and slipped on a filmy negligee， then sat down<br >before her dressing-table mirror to tidy her hair， though<br >there was nobody there to see her. She had lived for years<br >with only her cat for a companion.<br > As she went to the kitchen to make herself some tea the<br >feelin: g was still with her. It was reminiscent of the<br >afterr~ath of a bereavement--tinged with loss. When she<br >had 1o~ her paternal grandparents and then her father，<br >one after the other， she had for months afterward been<br >dogged by this mourning mood.<br > But there was nothing to mourn now. On the contrary，<br >she had every reason to rejoice. She was the toast of the<br >London theater， wasn t she? And she savored her success all<br >new play had opened to rave reviews. She had long since<br ><br >