ght overcoat. Cecil had
evidently slipped out of the house to meet him, for she was attired in
her sports coat and knitted cap. Poor Cecil! The interview seemed to
be ending in anything but a pleasant fashion.

Claire lingered behind until the couple had passed her own doorway, let
herself in with her latch-key, and hastened to settle down to work.
When Cecil came in, she would not wish to be observed. Claire carried
her books to the bureau, so as to have her back to the fire, but before
she had been five minutes writing, she heard the click of the lock, and
Cecil herself came into the room.

"Halloa! I saw the light go up. I thought it must be you." She was
silent for a couple of minutes, then spoke again in a sharp, summoning
voice: "Claire!"

"Yes?"

Claire turned round, to behold Cecil standing at the end of the dining-
table, her bare hands clasping its rim. She was so white that her lips
looked of a startling redness; her eyes met Claire with a defiant
hardness.

"I want you to lend me five pounds _now_!"

Claire's anxiety was swallowed in a rising of irritation which brought
an edge of coldness into her voice.

"Five pounds! What for? Cecil, I have never spoken of it, I have never
worried you, but I've already paid--"

"I know! I know! I'll pay you back. But I must have this to-night,
and I've nowhere else to go. It's important. I would lend it to you,
Claire, if it were in my power."

"Cecil, I hate to refuse, but really--I _need_ my money! Just now I
need it particularly. I can't afford to go on lending. I'm dreadfully
sorry, but--"

"Claire, please! I implore you, just this one time! I'll pay you
back... There's my insurance policy--I can raise something on that.
For pity's sake, Claire, help me this time!"

Claire rose silently and went upstairs. It was not in her to refuse
such a request while a five-pound note lay in her desk upstairs. She
slipped the crackling paper into an envelope, and carried it down to the
parlour. Cecil took it without a word, and went back into the night.

When she had gone, Claire gathered her papers together in a neat little
heap, ranged them in a corner of the bureau, and seated herself on a
stiff-backed chair at the end of the table. She looked as if she were
mounted on a seat of justice, and the position suited her frame of mind.
She felt angry and ill-used. Cecil had no right to borrow money from a
fellow-worker! The money in the bank