ould not resist
a grimace, so far from sporting seemed the prospect ahead. Janet caught
the grimace, and smiled in sympathy, but the next moment her face
sobered.

"But I hope you _are_ going to have jolly holidays?"

"Oh, I hope so. Oh, yes, I mean to enjoy them very much," Claire said
valiantly, and swiftly turned the subject. "Where do you go in
Switzerland?"

"Saint Moritz. We've gone there for years--a large party of friends.
It has become quite a yearly reunion. It's so comfy to have one's own
party, and be independent of the other hoteliers. They may be quite
nice, of course, but then, again, they may not. I feel rather mean
sometimes when I see a new arrival looking with big eyes at our merry
table. Theoretically, I think one _ought_ to be nice to new-comers in
an hotel. It's such a pelican-in-the-wilderness feeling. I'd hate it
myself, but practically I'm afraid I'm not particularly friendly. We
are so complete that we don't want outsiders. They'd spoil the fun.
Don't you think one is justified in being a little bit selfish at
Christmas-time?"

Claire laughed, her old, happy, gurgling laugh. It warmed her heart to
have Janet Willoughby's companionship once more.

"It isn't exactly the orthodox attitude, is it? Perhaps you will be
more justified this year, after you have got through your Christmas
duties at home."

"Yes! That's a good idea. I _shall_, for it was pure unselfishness
which prevented me running away last week with the rest of the party.
Mother would have given in if I'd persisted, and I wanted to so
dreadfully badly." She sighed, and looked quite dejected, but Claire
remained unmoved.

"I don't pity you one bit. You have only a week to wait. That's not a
great trial of patience!"

"Oh, yes, it is.--Sometimes!" said Janet with an emphasis which gave the
words an added eloquence.

Claire divined at once that Switzerland had an attraction apart from
winter sports--an attraction centred in some individual member of the
merry party. Could it by any chance be Erskine Fanshawe? She longed to
ask the question. Not for a hundred pounds would she have asked the
question. She hoped it was Captain Fanshawe. She hoped Janet would
have a lovely time. Some girls had everything. Some had nothing. It
was unfair--it was cruel. Oh, dear, what was the use of going to
church, and coming out to have such mean, grudging thoughts? Janet
Willoughby too! Such a dear! She deserved t