ay from the fire and contemplated the point of her boot,
and then she looked at the point of Lady Dashwood's shoe--they were both
on the fender rim side by side--May's right boot, Lady Dashwood's left
shoe.

"Your moral support," repeated Lady Dashwood. "Well, then you stay a
week. Many, many thanks. To-night I shall sleep well."

Lady Dashwood was conscious that "moral support" did not quite serve the
purpose she wanted, she had not quite got hold of the right words.

May's profile was absolutely in repose, but Lady Dashwood could feel
that she was pondering over that expression "moral support." So Lady
Dashwood was driven to repeat it once more. "Moral support," she said
very firmly. "Your moral support is what I want, dear May."

They had not heard the drawing-room door open, but they heard it close
although it was done softly, and both ladies turned away from the fire.

Gwendolen Scott had come in and was walking towards them, dressed in
white and looking very self-conscious and pretty.

"But you haven't told me," said Mrs. Dashwood tactfully, as if merely
continuing their talk, "who that portrait represents?"

"Oh, an old Warden," replied Lady Dashwood indifferently. "Moral
support" or not--the compact had been made. May was pledged for the
week. All was well! Lady Dashwood could look at Gwen now with an easy,
even an affectionate smile. "Gwen, let me introduce you to Mrs. Jack
Dashwood," she said.

Gwen had expected Mrs. Dashwood to be an elderly relative of the family
who would not introduce any new element into the Warden's little
household. She had not for a moment anticipated _this_! It was
disconcerting. Gwen was very much afraid of clever women, they moved and
looked and spoke as if they had been given a key "to the situation,"
though what that key was and what that situation exactly was Gwen did
not quite grasp.

Even the way in which Mrs. Dashwood put her hand out for a scarf she had
thrown on to a chair; the way she moved her feet, moved her head; the
way her plain black dress and the long plain coat hung about her, her
manner of looking at Gwen and accepting her as a person whom she was
about to know, all this mysterious "cachet" of her personality--made
Gwen uneasy. Besides this elegant woman was not exactly elderly--about
twenty-eight perhaps. Gwen was very much disconcerted at this unexpected
complication at the Lodgings--her life had been for the last few months
since she left school in Jul