amily. I'd be sorry, of
course, but I'd make up my mind that in time I'd make them fall in love
with me, too. What are you going to do now?"

"Going away. Into the country. I want to be quiet, and think."

Janet did not ask the address. She sat silent, staring into space, then
asked a sudden irrelevant question:

"Did he send you the cuckoo clock?"

"I--think so! It had no name, but it came from Switzerland while he was
there. He has never referred to it since."

"Ah!" Janet began pulling on her gloves. "I knew that, too. I _felt_
that he had sent it. Well! I must go. It will all come right, of
course, and you will be very happy. I've known Erskine so long, and his
wife is sure to be happy." Janet forced an artificial little laugh.
"You will be engaged before me, after all, but I dare say I shall soon
follow suit. It's nice to be loved. As one grows older, one
appreciates it more. And Captain Humphreys is a good man."

"He is splendid! I loved his face. And he is so devoted to you. It
was quite beautiful to watch him," cried Claire, thankful from her heart
to be able to enthuse honestly.

A load was lifted from her heart by Janet's prophecy of her own future.
For the moment it had no doubt been made more out of bravado than any
real conviction, and inevitably there must be a period of suffering, but
Janet was of a naturally buoyant nature, and her wounded spirit would
gradually find consolation in the love which had waited so patiently for
its reward. It needed no great gift of prophecy to see her in the
future, a happy, contented wife.

CHAPTER TWENTY SIX.

EASIER TO DIE.

When Janet had taken her departure Claire looked at the clock and found
that it was time to start for the hospital. She went out of the
station, and, passing a shop for flowers and fruit went in, spent ten
shillings in the filling of a reed basket, and, leaving the shop, seated
herself in one of the taxis which were standing in readiness outside the
great porch. Such carelessness of money was a natural reversion to
habit, which came as a consequence of her absorbed mind.

The great hospital looked bare and grim, the smell of iodoform was more
repellent than ever, after the sweet scents of the country. Claire knew
her way by this time, and ascended by lift to the women's ward, where
Sophie lay. Beside almost every bed one or two visitors were seated,
but Sophie was alone. Down the length of the ward Claire c