he feeling that
it is going to _last_. Mother comes first, and my stepfather is quite
well-off, and can afford to keep me; so if I were _needed_, I should not
feel that I was sacrificing my independence in letting him do it. So
you see I am not quite in the same position as the other mistresses, and
money is not of the same importance. If you were in my place, Sophie,
would you hesitate to lend me a ten-pound note?"

"Guineas, please!" cried Sophie, laughing to hide her tears. "All
right, my dear, all right! I give in. I lie down. You've beaten me.
I've nothing more to say. I'll take the horrid old injections, and pay
for them with your money, and--and--I think I'll go to bed now, please!
I've had about as much as I can bear for one short day!"

"And I'll go home and have a rest myself. I am to help at a bazaar this
afternoon, and I don't feel at all in my full beauty. Good-bye, Sophie.
Cheer up! There's a good time coming!"

"There's a good time coming for _you_!" predicted Sophie confidently.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN.

"LEND ME FIVE POUNDS!"

The contrasts of life seemed painfully strong to Claire Gifford that
Saturday afternoon as she seated herself in the luxurious car by Mrs
Willoughby's side, and thought of Sophie Blake obliged to borrow ten
pounds to pay for a chance of health, and the contrast deepened during
the next few hours, as she watched beautifully gowned women squandering
money on useless trifles which decked the various "stalls." Embroidered
cushions, painted sachets, veil cases, shaving cases, night-dress cases,
bridge bags, fan bags, handkerchief bags, work bags; bags of every size,
of every shape, of every conceivable material; bead necklaces, mats--a
wilderness of mats--a very pyramid of drawn-thread work. Claire found a
seat near the principal stall, where she caught the remarks of the
buyers as they turned away. "...I detest painted satin! Can't think why
I bought that ridiculous sachet. It will have to go on to the next
bazaar."

"...That makes my twenty-third bag! Rather a sweet, though, isn't he?
It will go with my grey dress."

"This is awful! I'm not getting on at all. I can't decently spend less
than five pounds. For goodness' sake tell me what to buy!"

"Can't think why people give bazaars! Such an upset in the house. For
some charity, I believe--I forget what. She asked me to come..."

So on and so on; scores of women surging to and fro, swinging bags of
gold