e all right just as one satisfies oneself that a little child
is happy--but her real attention was for the man at her side. In the
intervals, the two kept up a perpetual buzz of chat, broken only by
Evelyn's low laughs. Laura sat neglected, sat stiff and cold with
disappointment, a great bitterness welling up within her. Before the
performance had dragged to an end, she would have liked to put her head
down and cry.

"Tired?" queried Evelyn noticing her pinched look, as they drove home
in the wagonette. But the mother was there, too, so Laura said no.

Directly, however, the bedroom door shut behind them, she fell into a
tantrum, a fit of sullen rage, which she accentuated till Evelyn could
not but notice it.

"What's the matter with you? Didn't you enjoy yourself?"

"No, I hated it," returned Laura passionately.

Evelyn laughed a little at this, but with an air of humorous dismay. "I
must take care, then, not to ask you out again."

"I wouldn't go. Not for anything!"

"What on earth's the matter with you?"

"Nothing's the matter."

"Well, if that's all, make haste and get into bed. You're overtired."

"Go to bed yourself!"

"I am, as fast as I can. I can hardly keep my eyes open;" and Evelyn
yawned heartily.

When Laura saw that she meant it, she burst out: "You're nothing but a
story-teller--that's what you are! You said you didn't like them ...
that they were mostly fools ... and then ... then, to go on as you did
to-night." Her voice was shaky with tears.

"Oh, that's it, is it? Come now, get to bed. We'll talk about it in the
morning."

"I never want to speak to you again."

"You're a silly child. But I'm really too sleepy to quarrel with you
to-night."

"I hate you--hate you!"

"I shall survive it."

She turned out the light as she spoke, settled herself on her pillow,
and composedly went to sleep.

Laura's rage redoubled. Throwing herself on the floor she burst into
angry tears, and cried as loudly as she dared, in the hope of keeping
her companion awake. But Evelyn was a magnificent sleeper; and remained
undisturbed. So after a time Laura rose, drew up the blind, opened the
window and sat down on the sill.

It was a bitterly cold night, of milky-white moonlight; each bush and
shrub carved its jet-black shadow on paths and grass. Across Evelyn's
bed fell a great patch of light: this, or the chill air would, it was
to be trusted, wake her. Meanwhile Laura sat in her thin nightgown and
s