t the long fine threads of grey turning to silver
with just the steady gentle pressure which was necessary and which,
according to Mrs. Grant, no one but Mabel was capable of producing.

Mrs. Grant liked to have her hair brushed for half an hour after a
shampoo, it soothed the irritated nerves. From behind her mother's back
Mabel could see her own face in the glass, the sallow cheeks flushed
from her exertions, the grey, black-lashed eyes tired and a little
angry. Once, long ago, during one of their journeys on the continent,
there had been a young naval officer who had loved Mabel for those grey
eyes of hers. He had raved about the way the lashes lay like a fringe of
shadow round them. He had called them "Dream Eyes," and once he had
kissed the lids close shut over them with hard, passionate kisses.
Whenever Mabel looked at her eyes in the glass she thought of Jack
Donald. She had loved him and she had sent him away because of Mother.
He had only been able to offer her his love and the pay of a lieutenant
in the Navy; he had not even shown that he liked Mother, he had resented
the way Mabel slaved for her. Of course the outlook had been absurd, and
Mrs. Grant had said so very plainly. If Mabel married it would have to
be someone wealthy someone elderly enough to understand that Mother must
live with them. But when he went he took with him all the dreams of
Mabel's life; she never looked out into the future to make plans now,
she could only look back into the past that held her memories.

"I hope," said Mrs. Grant suddenly breaking in on her thoughts, "that
Dick does not fall in love with this young lady at the Manor."

"Why not?" asked Mabel, "he must fall in love sooner or later."

"Well, then, it must be later and with someone who has a great deal of
money. We are quite badly enough off as it is."

"You and I could go away again on our own," suggested Mabel, "you know
you said the other day that Wrotham was getting on your nerves."

"Don't be ridiculous," snapped Mrs. Grant, "I should like to know what
you think we should live on once Dick has a wife. You say you won't
marry Mr. Jarvis or anyone else."

"No," Mabel admitted, "but because I won't marry it hardly seems fair
that we should stand in the way of Dick's doing so."

"What do you intend to imply by 'standing in the way'? Really Mabel,
sometimes I wonder if you have any love for me, you so habitually and
wilfully misconstrue my sentences. Surely it is p