nd
made her own preparations for departure. At thirty-two the unaccustomed
strain of hospital life told heavily on a constitution weakened by
mental strain, and she thought with joy of the comfort of her own home,
of long, restful hours, when she could write to Piers at her ease, of
talks with Jean, of play with the children.

She drove straight from the hospital to the Gloucesters', where she had
arranged to spend a week in idleness before the effort of reopening her
own home. The rooms were _en fete_, profusely decorated with flowers.
Jean and the children rushed to the door to receive her--a charming
trio, all dressed alike, in a flutter of white muslins and blue ribbons.
The whole made an entrancing picture to one accustomed to the bare
austerity of a hospital ward; and Vanna felt her spirits soar upwards
with a delightful sense of exhilaration. She hugged Jean with
schoolgirl effusion, swung the children about in a merry dance, and gave
herself up with undisguised zest to the pleasures of the moment: the
daintily spread, daintily provided tea, the luxurious appointments of
the little house, her own comfortable bedroom, the easy laxity of hours.
The first long chat with Jean seemed but to open out the way for a
hundred other subjects which both were longing to discuss, and when it
was over, the agreeable task remained of dressing herself in a pretty
gown to partake of the sociable evening meal.

"Oh, dear! The pomps and vanities of this world, how I love them; how
good they are," she sighed happily. "What a delight it is to sit at a
dear little table bright with silver and flowers, and eat indigestible
dainties, and know you can sit still and be lazy all evening, and go to
bed when you like, and get up, no, _not_ get up, stay in bed and have
breakfast, and snoodle down to sleep again if you feel so inclined! I
_shall_ be lazy to-morrow! And to wear a pretty dress, and a necklace,
on a nice bare neck, instead of a stiff starched bow sticking into one's
chin. Have my strings marked my neck? How do I look? I seemed to
myself a perfect vision of beauty, but Jean looks at me askance. I
don't fancy she looks flattering."

"No, not a bit," said Jean bluntly. "You look a wreck, like most
discharged patients--fit for nothing but a convalescent home. Don't
talk of necks! It's nothing but bones, a perfect disgrace. I shall
feed you up, and forbid work for weeks to come. What you need is a
good, bracing chang