en now. You're
beginning to feel the thorns under the rose-leaves. Of course you
may be lucky. You may bear children, and that will be your
salvation. But if you don't--if you don't----"

"Please!" whispered Sylvia. "Please don't say that to me!"

The words were almost inarticulate. She got up as she uttered them
and moved away. Mrs. Merston looked after her, and very strangely
her face altered. Something of that mother-love in her which had
so long been cheated showed in her lustreless eyes.

"Oh, poor child!" she said. "I am sorry."

It was briefly spoken. She was ever brief in her rare moments of
emotion. But there was a throb of feeling in the words that
reached Sylvia. She turned impulsively back again.

"Thank you," she said, and there were tears in her eyes as she
spoke. "I think perhaps--" her utterance came with an effort "--my
life is--in its way--almost as difficult as yours. That ought to
make us comrades, oughtn't it? If ever there is anything I can do
to help you, please tell me!"

"Let it be a mutual understanding!" said Mrs. Merston, and to
Sylvia's surprise she took and pressed her hand for a moment.

There was more comfort in that simple pressure than Sylvia could
have believed possible. She returned it with that quick warmth of
hers which never failed to respond to kindness, and in that second
the seed of friendship was sown upon fruitful ground.

The moment passed, sped by Mrs. Merston who seemed half-afraid of
her own action.

"You must get your husband to take you to Brennerstadt for the
races," she said. "It would make a change for you. It's a shame
for a girl of your age to be buried in the wilderness."

"I really haven't begun to be dull yet," Sylvia said.

"No, perhaps not. But you'll get nervy and unhappy. You've been
used to society, and it isn't good for you to go without it
entirely. Look at me!" said Mrs. Merston, with her short laugh.
"And take warning!"

The two men were sauntering towards them, and they moved to meet
them. Far down in the east an almost unbelievably huge moon hung
like a brazen shield. The mauve of the sunset had faded to pearl.

"It is rather a beautiful world, isn't it?" Sylvia said a little
wistfully.

"To the favoured few--yes," said Mrs. Merston.

Sylvia gave her a quick glance. "I read somewhere--I don't know if
it's true--that we are all given the ingredients of happiness, but
the mixing is left to ourselves. Perhaps y