g that no one looking
on could have guessed the real nature of her journey. She was not
pretending to be cheerful, she _was_ cheerful, for, the dreaded parting
once over, her optimistic nature had asserted itself, and painted the
life ahead in its old rosy colours. Mother was happy and secured from
want; she herself was about to enjoy a longed-for taste for
independence; then why grumble? asked Claire sensibly of herself, and
anything less grumbling than her appearance at that moment it would be
hard to imagine.

She was beautifully dressed, in the simplest but most becoming of
travelling costumes, she was agreeably conscious that the onlookers to
her send-off had been unanimously admiring in their regard, and, as she
stood arranging her bags on the rack overhead, she saw her own face in
the strip of mirror and whole-heartedly agreed in their verdict.

"I'm glad I'm pretty! It's a comfort to be pretty. I should grow so
tired of being with myself if I were plain!" she reflected complacently
as she settled herself in her corner, and flicked a few grains of dust
from the front of her skirt.

She had taken a through first-class ticket from sheer force of habit,
for Mrs Gifford had always travelled first, and the ways of economy
take some time to acquire. In the opposite corner of the carriage sat
an elderly woman, obviously English, obviously also of the _grande dame_
species, with aquiline features, white hair dressed pompadour fashion,
and an expression compounded of indifference and quizzical good humour.
The good humour was in the ascendant as she watched the kindly Belgians
crowd round her fellow-passenger, envelop her in their arms, murmur
tearful farewells, and kiss her soundly on either cheek. The finely
marked eyebrows lifted themselves as if in commiseration for the victim,
and as the door closed on the last farewell she heaved an involuntary
sigh of relief. It was evident that the scene appealed to her entirely
from the one standpoint; she saw nothing touching about it, nothing
pathetic; she was simply amused, and carelessly scornful of
eccentricities in manner or appearance.

On the seat beside this imposing personage sat a young woman in black,
bearing the hall mark of lady's maid written all over her in capital
letters. She sat stiffly in her seat, one gloved hand on her knee, the
other clasped tightly round the handle of a crocodile dressing-bag.

Claire felt a passing interest in the pair; refle