showing beneath the hem of her shabby skirt, spending the holiday
Saturday evening at home because she had no invitations to go out, and
no money to spare for an entertainment. "Oh, I _do_ envy you!" sighed
Janet deeply. "It's one of my greatest ambitions to share rooms with a
nice girl, and live the simple life, and be free to do whatever one
liked. Mother loves independence in other girls, but her principles
don't extend to me. She says an only daughter's place is at home. But
you are an only daughter, too."

"I am; but other circumstances were different. It was a case of being
dependent on a stepfather or of working for myself--so I chose to work,
and--"

"And I'm sure you never regret it!"

Claire extended her hands in the expressive French shrug.

"Ah, but I do! Horribly, at times. Even now, after three months' work
I have a conviction that I shall regret it more and more as time goes
on; but if I had to decide again, I'd do just the same. It's a question
of principle versus so many things--laziness and self-indulgence, and
wanting to have a good time, and the habits of a lifetime, and
irritation with stupid girls who won't work."

Janet Willoughby gave a soft murmur of understanding.

"Yes, of course. Stupid of me to say that! Of course, you must get
tired when you've never taught before. Does it bore you very much?"

"Teaching? Oh, no. As a rule I love it, and take a pride in inventing
new ways to help the girls. It's the all work and no play that gets on
one's nerves, and the feeling of being cut off from the world by an
impassable barrier of something that really doesn't exist. People have
a prejudice against school-mistresses. They think they are dull, and
proper, and pedantic. If they want to be complimentary they say, `You
don't look like a school-mistress.' You did yourself, not two minutes
ago. But really and truly they are just natural, everyday girls,
wanting to have a good time in their leisure hours like other girls.
You can't think how happy I was to come here to-night and have the
chance of putting on pretty things again."

Janet Willoughby put her hand on Claire's arm and piloted her deftly
through the crowd.

"Now," she said firmly, "you just stay here, and I'll bring up all the
nicest men in the room, and introduce them in turns. You _shall_ have a
good time, and you are wearing the very prettiest things in the room--if
it's any comfort to you to hear it. We won't