ys, and the fact that she would wear her nicest
clothes every day, and dress for dinner every evening, was a delightful
thing to reflect upon. She got so much more out of life than most
people, though she was not aware of it.

She opened the front door of the house in Mortimer Street with her
latch-key, and went upstairs, almost unconscious that the damp heat was
dreadful. She met Jane Cupp coming down, and smiled at her happily.

"Jane," she said, "if you are not busy, I should like to have a little
talk with you. Will you come into my room?"

"Yes, miss," Jane replied, with her usual respectful lady's maid's air.
It was in truth Jane's highest ambition to become some day maid to a
great lady, and she privately felt that her association with Miss
Fox-Seton was the best possible training. She used to ask to be allowed
to dress her when she went out, and had felt it a privilege to be
permitted to "do" her hair.

She helped Emily to remove her walking dress, and neatly folded away her
gloves and veil. She knelt down before her as soon as she saw her seat
herself to take off her muddy boots.

"Oh, _thank_ you, Jane," Emily exclaimed, with her kind italicised
manner. "That _is_ good of you. I _am_ tired, really. But such a nice
thing has happened. I have had such a delightful invi-tation for the
first week in August."

"I'm sure you'll enjoy it, miss," said Jane. "It's so hot in August."

"Lady Maria Bayne has been kind enough to invite me to Mallowe Court,"
explained Emily, smiling down at the cheap slipper Jane was putting on
her large, well-shaped foot. She was built on a large scale, and her
foot was of no Cinderella-like proportions.

"O miss!" exclaimed Jane. "How beautiful! I was reading about Mallowe in
'Modern Society' the other day, and it said it was lovely and her
ladyship's parties were wonderful for smartness. The paragraph was about
the Marquis of Walderhurst."

"He is Lady Maria's cousin," said Emily, "and he will be there when I
am."

She was a friendly creature, and lived a life so really isolated from
any ordinary companionship that her simple little talks with Jane and
Mrs. Cupp were a pleasure to her. The Cupps were neither gossiping nor
intrusive, and she felt as if they were her friends. Once when she had
been ill for a week she remembered suddenly realising that she had no
intimates at all, and that if she died Mrs. Cupp's and Jane's would
certainly be the last faces--and the only ones--s