ould only repeat.

"My dear," said Miss Pringle with an effort at consolation, "don't give
way. I'm sure you'll have no difficulty in finding another situation.
You wash lace beautifully and no one can arrange flowers like you."

Nora sank wearily into a chair. "And I was dreaming of France and
Italy--I shall spend ten years more with an old lady, and then she'll
die and I shall look out for another situation. It won't be so easy then
because I shan't be so young. And so it'll go on until I can't find a
situation because I'm too old, and then some charitable people will get
me into a home. You like the life, don't you?"

"My dear, there are so few things a gentlewoman can do."

"When I think of those ten years," said Nora, pacing up and down the
length of the room, "having to put up with every unreasonableness! Never
being allowed to feel ill or tired. No servant would have stood what I
have. The humiliation I've endured!"

"You're tired and out of sorts," said Miss Pringle soothingly. "Everyone
isn't so trying as Miss Wickham. I'm sure Mrs. Hubbard has been kindness
itself to me."

"Considering."

"I don't know what you mean by 'considering.'"

"Considering that she's rich and you're poor. She gives you her old
clothes. She frequently doesn't ask you to have dinner by yourself when
she's giving a party. She doesn't remind you that you're a dependent
unless she's very much put out. But you--you've had thirty years of it.
You've eaten the bitter bread of slavery till--till it tastes like plum
cake!"

Miss Pringle was distinctly hurt. "I don't know why you say such things
to me, Nora."

"Oh, you mustn't mind what I say; I----"

"Mr. Hornby would like to see you for a minute, Miss," said Kate from
the doorway.

"Now?"

"I told him I didn't think it would be very convenient, Miss, but he
says it's very important, and he won't detain you more than five
minutes."

"What a nuisance. Ask him to come in."

"Very good, Miss."

"I wonder what on earth he can want."

"Who is he, Nora?"

"Oh, he's the son of Colonel Hornby. Don't you know, he lives at the top
of Molyneux Park? His mother was a great friend of Miss Wickham's. He
comes down here now and then for week-ends. He's got something to do
with motor cars."

"Mr. Hornby," said Kate from the door.

Reginald Hornby was evidently one of those candid souls who are above
simulating an emotion they do not feel. He had regarded the late Miss
Wickham as an