was hung over a chair in the morning, the
while the utility flannelette was locked in a drawer. All went well,
until one fateful morning, when, on the arrival of early tea, drowsiness
overcame discretion, and the flanneletted figure had reared upright in
the bed.

"My dear," concluded the sufferer tragically, "I could have _died_!...
After that her manner entirely changed."

It was a sorry task, refilling that box which had been packed with such
high hopes. As she folded ribbons, and stuffed tissue paper into the
sleeves of dresses, Teresa could recall the exact sentiments which had
been in her mind as she had gone through the same process a few days
before. Dane liked blue, so she had decided to wear the new blue dress
on the first evening. The new sports coat was green, which suited her
fairness almost as well as blue. She would wear that when they went out
walking together, and he would slip his hand through her arm. There was
a filmy white scarf which she had intended to throw over her shoulders
when they escaped together into the garden after dinner. That scarf had
never been taken out of its wrappings. It had never been required. The
visit to which she had looked forward, as she had looked forward to
nothing else in her life, had ended in tragedy and upheaval.

An ordinary girl would have assuredly shed tears over such a packing,
but Teresa was not given to tears; moreover, in another hour she would
be starting on a _tete-a-tete_ journey with Dane, and a disfigured face
would not help her cause. She recognised the fact, and set her lips,
refusing to give way to the choky sensation in her throat, to the
pricking at the back of her eyes. Tears were for those who had lost
hope, and she had not yet come to that pass. If much was lost, a great
deal remained. She would go on fighting.

Downstairs Teresa made her adieux with smiling composure. It was Grizel
who cried, crumpling her tiny handkerchief into a ball, and dabbing at
her eyes without an effort at concealment. The curse of a vivid
imagination was presenting to her the inner tragedy of the journey
ahead, when the two who were supposedly lovers were left alone together
for leaden hours which should have been winged with joy. She envisaged
the home-coming too, the flood of maternal questionings, the blankness
of spirit which would descend upon the girl when she attempted to settle
down. While Teresa had been packing her trunk Grizel had been wi