Then, as I stood holding Madeline's certificate in my hand, a sudden thought flashed into my mind and I felt my face flushing in my excitement. Why—why shouldn't I take Madeline's certificate to be my own, and change my name to hers straightaway? What was there to prevent it? It would be quite safe! Not a soul in Paris had known me as Polly Wiggs, and when on the morrow I quitted our present apartment I could go as Marie de Touraine—I preferred Marie to Madeline—and no one would know there had been any change of name. Surely, I told myself, I should get on better in life as Marie de Touraine than under the ugly-sounding names of Polly Wiggs? Oh, if only I had the courage to make the change!
Hardly daring to breathe, I tip-toed out in the the passage to Mrs. de Touraine's door. It was ajar
