for
themselves. So I couldn't buy what I wanted and my dear mother had too
much sense to buy it for me. I had strong, useful things, twelve of
everything, and they've lasted to this day. However, Marie thinks
differently and she has earned the money to act differently, so let her
be happy in her own way while she can."

"Won't she be happy when she's married?" Julia asked, while Marie
angrily hid her treasures away in tissue paper.

"I hope so," said Mrs. Amber; "I'm sure I hope so. But things are all
so different when you're married. You girls had better come to tea."

Julia linked her arm strongly in Marie's as they followed the elderly
woman out. "Marie, love," she whispered, "I'm a grouser. You know I
wish you all the luck in the world and more. You know I do?"

"I have it," said Marie, smiling. "And I hope you'll have it, too,
before long."

On the sitting-room table tea was spread; the room was red in the
firelight; and the flat was so high up in the block that the street
noises scarcely ascended to it. The girls sat down on the hearthrug,
and Mrs. Amber seated herself before her tea tray and flicked away a
tear.

"A week to-day," she said, "I shall be the loneliest old thing in
London. I shall be all by myself in this flat when Marie's gone."

There were five cups and saucers on the tray, and in a moment the
door-bell rang, and Marie sprang up to answer it. "That's Osborn!" she
cried in a flutter.

She returned demurely between two young men, one of them holding her
hand captive.

Osborn had brought his friend Desmond Rokeby to talk over details of
the great event next week. He kissed Mrs. Amber on the cheek, and
turned to Julia with a certain diffidence. "Miss Winter," he said, with
a nervous laugh, "I've brought Rokeby. You've met him? Rokeby, Miss
Winter's going to be Marie's bridesmaid, you know, and you're going to
be mine, so...."

The little joke was received with laughter by Mrs. Amber, Marie and
Desmond; Julia only smiled and Rokeby thought, "What a dour young
female! What a cold douche! What a perishing mistake!"

He sat down beside her on the chesterfield; the couch was small and
Julia, close beside him, cold and hard as a rock. He turned from a
glance at her profile to contemplate the bride-elect, and saw in her
all that the modern young man wishes to find in a girl, the sparkle of
spirit, yet the feminine softness; a frou-frou of temperament as well
as of frills; a face of childlike cl