after being staid and
sensible for a long, long time, it was a blessed relief to the feminine
mind to have a little spell of recklessness for a change. Cecil had
only to say, "I've run myself horribly short. Can you pay up till I get
my screw?" and the whole matter would have been settled in a trice. But
to pretend to forget was so _mean_!

The next morning after breakfast the vexed question of the Christmas
holidays came up for discussion for the twentieth time. Cecil had
previously stated that she always spent the time with her mother, but it
now appeared that to a certain extent she had changed her plans.

"I shall have to go down over Christmas Day and the New Year, I suppose.
Old people make such a fuss over those stupid anniversaries, but I
shall come up again on the second. I prefer to be in town. We have to
pay for the rooms in any case, so we may as well use them."

Claire's face lengthened.

"_Pay_ for them! Even if we go away?"

"Of course. What did you expect? The landlady isn't let off her own
rent, because we choose to take a holiday. There's no saving except for
the light and coal. By the way, I owe you for a third week now. I
_must_ remember! Have you decided what you are going to do?"

Claire shook her head. It was a forlorn feeling that Christmas was
coming, and she had nowhere to go. Until now she had gone on in faith,
feeling sure that before the time arrived, some one would remember her
loneliness, and invite her if only for the day itself. Possibly Cecil
in virtue of three months' daily companionship would ask her mother's
permission to invite her friend, if only for a couple of days. Or
bright, friendly Sophie Blake, who had sympathised with her loneliness,
might have some proposition to make, or Mrs Willoughby, who was so
interested in girls who were working for themselves, or Miss
Farnborough, who knew that it was the French mistress's first Christmas
without her mother; but no such suggestion had been made. No one seemed
to care.

"I must say it's _strange_ that no one has invited you!" said Cecil
sharply. "I don't think much of your grand friends if they can't look
after you on Christmas Day. What about the people in Brussels? Did no
one send you an invitation? If you lived there for three years, surely
you must know some one intimately enough to offer to go, even if they
don't suggest it."

"It is not necessary, thank you," said Claire with an air. "I have an