recognized her. Fanny, dressed up in her best to meet
Joan's possible future relations, and Fanny in her London garments,
which consisted of a very tight dress slit up to well within sight of
her knee, and a rakish little hat, were two very different people. And
whereas the Fanny of Sevenoaks had been a little vulgar but most
undeniably pretty, this Fanny was absolutely impossible--the kind of
person one hardly liked to be seen talking to. Yet there was something
in the girl's face, the frank appeal of her eyes, perhaps, that held
Mabel against her will.

"The woman tells me that Miss Rutherford has left," she spoke stiffly.
"I was really only going to call upon her."

"Yes, I know she's gone," Fanny nodded, "back to her people. But there
is something between her and your brother that awfully badly wants to be
explained. Won't you come in and let me tell you? Oh, do, please do."

She had caught hold of the other's sleeve and was practically leading
her back up the steps. Mabel had not seen Dick since he had left
Sevenoaks. He had written a note to their hotel saying he was most
awfully busy, his application for service had been accepted, but pending
his being attached to any unit he was putting in the time examining
recruits. He had not mentioned Joan, Mabel had noticed that; still she
had promised to call and make it up with the girl, and Mabel was a
person who always religiously kept her promises. But if there had been
any disagreement, as Fanny's anxiety to explain showed, then surely it
was so much the better. Here and now she would wash her hands of the
affair and start hoping once again for something better for Dick.

Fanny had opened the door by this time and had led the way inside. "My
room is three flights up," she said. "Will you mind that? Also it is
probably dreadfully untidy. It generally is."

This was where Mabel, following the wise guidance of her head, ought to
have said: "I am not coming, I really haven't time," or some excuse of
that sort. Instead she stepped meekly inside and followed the girl
upstairs. Perhaps some memory of Dick's face as he had spoken of Joan
prompted her, or perhaps it was just because she felt that in some small
way she owed Joan a reparation.

Fanny's room was certainly untidy. Every chair was occupied by an
assortment of clothes, for before she had gone out that morning Fanny
had had a rummage for a special pair of silk stockings that were the
pride of her heart. She bu