it at all she was met on the threshold by darkness
and cold; if she ordered it for a given time she was so often late that
she returned to find it dead or kept up wastefully at the rate of
sixpence a scuttle. This trouble was chronic; on bitter days it seemed
to dog her footsteps.

She had almost grown accustomed to loneliness. Alone she watched at her
window or paced the streets. She had established a quasi-right to a
certain seat at the Italian restaurant where the waiters had ceased to
speculate as to who she was. The demoralisation of unemployment was upon
her. She did not cast up her accounts; she rose late, made no plans. She
slept and ate, careless of the morrow.

It was in the midst of this slow settling into despond that a short note
from Lady Rockham arrived like a bombshell. It asked her to call on a Mrs
Holt who lived in Finchley Road. It appeared that Mrs Holt was in need
of a companion as her husband was often away. Victoria was shaken out of
her torpor. In a trice her optimism crushed out of sight the flat
thoughts of aimless days. She feverishly dressed for the occasion. She
debated whether she would have time to insert a new white frill into the
neck of a black blouse. Heedless of expenditure she spent two and eleven
pence on new black gloves, and twopence on the services of a shoeblack
who whistled cheerful tunes, and smiled on the coppers. Victoria sallied
out to certain victory. The wind was blowing balmier. A fitful gleam of
sunshine lit up and reddened the pile of tangerines in a shop window.

CHAPTER VII

'I'M very sorry you can't come,' said Mrs Holt.

'Last Sunday, Mr Baker was so nice. I never heard anything so
interesting as his sermon on the personal devil. I was quite frightened.
At least I would have been if he had said all that at Bethlehem. You
know, when we were at Rawsley we had such nice lantern lectures. I do
miss them.'

Victoria looked up with a smile at the kindly red face. 'I'm so sorry,'
she said, 'I've got such a headache. Perhaps it'll pass over if I go for
a little walk while you are at Church.' She was not unconscious, as she
said this, of the subtle flattery that the use of the word 'church'
implies when used to people who dare not leave their chapel.

'Do, Victoria, I'm sure it will do you good,' said Mrs Holt, kindly. 'If
the sun keeps on, we'll go to the Zoo this afternoon. I do like to see
the children in the monkey house.'

'I'm sure I shall be glad to