y the effort ended in
failure. She could remember nothing but a haze of general misery and
confusion, which deepened with every fresh mile, and reached its acutest
point at the moment of arriving "home."

The landlady was flustered at having to prepare for so hasty a return,
and did not scruple to show her displeasure. She took for granted that
Claire had had lunch, and the poor girl had not the courage to undeceive
her. A telegram was lying on the dining-room table which announced
Cecil's arrival at four o'clock. Claire ordered tea to be ready at that
hour, and stretched herself on her bed in the room upstairs which looked
so bare and cold, denuded of the beautifying personal touches. She felt
incredibly tired, incredibly lonely; she longed with a very passion of
longing for some one of her own, for the dear, beautiful mother, who if
she did not always understand, was always ready to love. Oh, it was
hard, unnatural work, this fighting the world alone! Did the girls who
grew weary of the restraints of home, ever realise how their working
sisters sickened with longing for some one who cared enough even to
_interfere_!

Three o'clock, half-past three, a quarter to four. Claire was faint for
want of food, and had enough sense to realise that this was a poor
preparation for the ordeal ahead; she went downstairs, and threw herself
upon Lizzie's mercy.

"Lizzie, I have had no lunch. I'm starving. Could you bring up the tea
_now_, and make some fresh for Miss Rhodes when she arrives?"

"Why couldn't you say so before?" Lizzie asked with the freedom of the
lodging-house slavey, but the question was spoken in sympathy rather
than anger. "The kettle's boiling, and I've cut the bread and butter.
You shall have it in two two's. I'll cut you a sanguidge," she cried as
a supreme proof of goodwill, and clattered down the kitchen stairs at
express speed.

She was as good as her word. In five minutes tea was ready, and Claire
ate and drank, keeping her eyes turned resolutely from the clock.
Before it had struck the hour, there came from the hall the sound of a
well-known double knock, and she knew that the hour of her ordeal had
arrived.

She did not rise from the table; the tea-things were clattering with the
trembling of the hand that was resting upon the tray, she literally had
not the strength to rise. She lay back in her chair and stared
helplessly at the opening door.

Cecil came in. It came as a shock to