d up in a big armchair, was left to play the part of mistress of
the ceremonies.

"They will be happier without us. We will leave them to have their talk
alone," whispered the elders to each other, as they left the room; but
the two girls were mutually suffering from a sense of embarrassment
which made conversation difficult to begin.

"How thin she is! Her nose is sharper than ever. Poor dear, she _is_
plain!" reflected Dreda, candid and clear-sighted.

"How thin she is! All her colour has gone, but she looks pretty still.
She always does look pretty," reflected Norah in her turn. She lifted
her cup in a trembling hand, looking wistfully at her companion with
gaunt, spectacled eyes.

"I am so sorry you were ill... It was all my fault. I kept you there
in the cold... Doctor Reed says I should have been plucky and made up
my mind to bear the pain ... It's easy to talk when your bones are
whole. When they are broken and sticking into your flesh you feel quite
different. It seemed easier to die than to move, but it was hard lines
on you... I'm sorry you were ill."

Dreda beamed reassurement, thoroughly enjoying the position of receiving
apologies.

"My dear, don't mention it. I have suffered too, and I _quite_
understand. Pneumonia's hateful! I never could have imagined that it
was possible to feel so ill. I couldn't have thought of anyone in the
world, but just how to draw the next breath.--It _is_ so nice to feel
well again; but I'm dreadfully sympathetic about your knee. When you
were lying with your head on my knee that afternoon, I was sorry I'd
been so disagreeable at school. You feel such _remorse_ when you've
snapped at people, and then see them all white and still, with their
eyes turned up.--I thought such lots of thoughts that afternoon, and I'm
going to be quite different at school. Much nicer--you see if I'm not!"

Nora shook her head, and her eyes sank in painful discomfiture.

"No! I shan't see. I shan't be there. The doctor says I shall not be
fit for school. I shall never go back to West End. Perhaps it's just
as well. The girls never liked me very much, and now it would be worse
than ever--and Miss Drake--Miss Drake would be furious! ... I never
meant to tell, but I've been miserable ever since, and now I've broken
my knee--and, when I lay awake crying with pain those first awful nights
I made up my mind to tell, whether it was found out or not. It's awful
to have a pai