w silly of Wilf to begin to talk about marrying at all. But, of
course, if you were engaged--only she and Wilf weren't engaged. They'd
been "going together," of course, but she had no ring. She had never
considered herself really engaged. Neither had Aunt Creddle----

But the kettle suddenly boiled over, so she filled the glass and the
cups, and hurried off with the tray, her head still so full of her own
engrossing thoughts that she did not become aware that visitors were
present until she was well inside the room.

"Oh, Caroline, you can just put the tray down on the round table," said
Miss Ethel, high and cool. It was plain that she thought the hour very
late, and that Caroline's red cheeks, disordered hair and hat rakishly
on one side did not please her.

Caroline's face became still more flushed and she flung up her head as
she crossed the room, then put down the tray with a considerable
clatter. But the clatter was unintentional--though Miss Ethel would
not have believed this--and was due to a small piece of needlework on
the table which caused the cup and glass to stand unevenly on the tray.
Caroline heard the sharp indrawing of Miss Ethel's breath on the way to
the door, and her whole being was in a prickly heat of defiance and
embarrassment--"Only wait until to-morrow morning! To-morrow morning,
they would just hear about it. They might look somewhere else for a
girl who would let herself be spoken to as if she was something
unpleasant that crawled----"

But through the fiery mist that seemed to blind her as she re-crossed
the room, she heard another voice speaking: "Good evening, Miss Raby.
How did you like your first day at the promenade?"

It was a lovely voice, clear yet mellow, and Caroline, despite all her
anger and wounded pride, felt obliged to answer civilly: "Oh, I liked
it all right, Miss Temple, thank you."

The door closed; there was a pause while Caroline's high heels clacked
faintly across the tiled floor of the hall, and then a sound burst
forth like the sudden chattering of rooks when they are startled in
their nests by a shot fired close at hand.

"Well, I never! Coming in at a quarter to eleven and taking that
attitude!" said Mrs. Bradford, in her heavy wheezy contralto.

"It's the same in everything. The world's upside down," jerked out
Miss Ethel, flushed and tight-lipped. "Oh, we little knew what a
lovely world we lived in twenty years ago. We took it all for granted.