fortunately he was a young man with a high sense of duty, convinced
that his employer's interests lay in his support of Mrs. Phillips. The
sight of the furniture that, between them, they selected for the dining-
room gave Joan a quite distinct internal pain. They ascended to the
floor above, devoted to the exhibition of "_Recherche_ drawing-room
suites." Mrs. Phillips's eye instinctively fastened with passionate
desire upon the most atrocious. Joan grew vehement. It was impossible.

"I always was a one for cheerful colours," explained Mrs. Phillips.

Even the shopman wavered. Joan pressed her advantage; directed Mrs.
Phillips's attention to something a little less awful. Mrs. Phillips
yielded.

"Of course you know best, dear," she admitted. "Perhaps I am a bit too
fond of bright things."

The victory was won. Mrs. Phillips had turned away. The shopman was
altering the order. Joan moved towards the door, and accidentally caught
sight of Mrs. Phillips's face. The flabby mouth was trembling. A tear
was running down the painted cheek.

Joan slipped her hand through the other's arm.

"I'm not so sure you're not right after all," she said, fixing a critical
eye upon the rival suites. "It is a bit mousey, that other."

The order was once more corrected. Joan had the consolation of
witnessing the childish delight that came again into the foolish face;
but felt angry with herself at her own weakness.

It was the woman's feebleness that irritated her. If only she had shown
a spark of fight, Joan could have been firm. Poor feckless creature,
what could have ever been her attraction for Phillips!

She followed, inwardly fuming, while Mrs. Phillips continued to pile
monstrosity upon monstrosity. What would Phillips think? And what would
Hilda's eyes say when they looked upon that _recherche_ drawing-room
suite? Hilda, who would have had no sentimental compunctions! The woman
would be sure to tell them both that she, Joan, had accompanied her and
helped in the choosing. The whole ghastly house would be exhibited to
every visitor as the result of their joint taste. She could hear Mr.
Airlie's purring voice congratulating her.

She ought to have insisted on their going to a decent shop. The mere
advertisement ought to have forewarned her. It was the posters that had
captured Mrs. Phillips: those dazzling apartments where bejewelled
society reposed upon the "high-class but inexpensive designs" of Mr.