feuilleton began.

The service that morning was food to Claire's hungering soul, for the
words of the preacher might have been designed to meet her own need. As
she listened she realised that the bitterness of loneliness was
impossible to one who believed and trusted in the great, all-compassing
love. Sad one might still be, so long as the human heart demanded a
human companionship, but the sting of feeling uncared for, could never
touch a child of God. She took the comfort home to her heart, and
stored it there to help her through the difficult time ahead, and on her
knees at the end of the service she sent up her own little petition for
help.

"There are so many homes in this great city! Is there no home for me on
Christmas Day?" With the words the tears sprang, and Claire mopped her
eyes with her handkerchief, thankful that she was surrounded by
strangers by whom her reddened eyes would pass unnoticed. Then rising
to her feet, she turned to lift the furs which hung on the back of the
pew, and met the brown eyes of a girl who had been sitting behind her
the whole of the service.

The girl was Janet Willoughby.

CHAPTER ELEVEN.

ENTER MAJOR CAREW.

In the street outside the church door the two girls shook hands and
exchanged greetings. Janet wore a long fur coat, and a toque of dark
Russian sable, with a sweeping feather at one side. The price of these
two garments alone would equal the whole of Claire's yearly salary, but
it had the effect of making the wearer look clumsy and middle-aged
compared with the graceful simplicity of the other's French-cut costume.
Janet Willoughby was not thinking of clothes at that moment, however;
she was looking at reddened eyelids, and remembering the moment when she
had seen a kneeling figure suddenly shaken with emotion. The sight of
those tears had wiped away the rankling grudge which had lain at her
heart since the evening of her mother's At Home, and revived the warm
liking which at first sight she had taken to this pretty attractive
girl.

"Which way are you going? May I walk with you? It's just the morning
for a walk. I hope it will keep cold and bright over Christmas. It's
so inappropriate when it's muggy. Last year we were in Switzerland, but
mother is old-fashioned, and likes to have the day at home, so this time
we don't start till the new year. You are not going sporting by any
chance?"

"I'm not!" said Claire, and, for all her determination, c