home from school. Father wouldn't let me do a
thing. But _she_ does just what she pleases. You can hear her and
Forest laughing over it. Oh, it's all right, of course. She sends
things to hospitals every week.'

'That was what you used to want.'

'I do want it--but--'

'You ought to have the doing of it?'

'Oh, I don't know. I'm away all day. But she might at least
_pretend_ to refer to him--or me--sometimes. It's the same in
everything. She twists father round her little finger; and you can
see all the time what she thinks--that there never was such a bad
landlord, or such a miserable, feckless crew as the rest of us,
before she came to put us straight!'

Desmond listened--partly resisting--but finally carried away. By the
time their talk was over he felt that he too hated Elizabeth
Bremerton, and that it was horrid to have to leave Pamela with her.

When they said good-night Pamela threw herself on her bed face
downwards, more wretched than she had ever been--wretched because
Desmond was going, and might be killed, wretched, too, because her
conscience told her that she had spoilt his last evening, and made
him exceedingly unhappy, by a lot of exaggerated complaints. She was
degenerating--she knew it. 'I am a little beast, compared to what I
was when I left school,' she confessed to herself with tears, and
did not know how to get rid of this fiery plague that was eating at
her heart. She seemed to look back to a time--only yesterday!--when
poetry and high ideals, friendships and religion filled her mind;
and now nothing--nothing!--was of any importance, but the look, the
voice, the touch of a man.

The next day, Desmond's last day at home, for he was due in London
by the evening, was gloomy and embarrassed for all concerned.
Elizabeth, pre-occupied and shrinking from her own thoughts, could
not imagine what had happened. She had put off all her engagements
for the day, that she might help in any last arrangements that might
have to be made for Desmond.

But Desmond declined to be helped, not rudely, but with a decision,
which took Elizabeth aback.

'Mayn't I look out some books for you? I have found some more pocket
classics,' she had said to him with a smile, remembering his
application to her in the autumn.

'No, thank you. I shall have no time.' And with that, a prompt
retreat to Pamela and the Den. Elizabeth, indeed, who was all
eagerness to serve him, found herself rebuffed at every turn.

Nor we