in love, and felt a natural desire to begin their married life without the presence of a third person, however dear that person might be.

Mr Judge applauded Claire’s spirit, and prophesied her rapid success as a teacher. Mrs Gifford murmured sweetly, “And if you don’t like it, dear, you can always come out by the next boat. Try it for a year. It will be quite an amusing experience to live the life of a bachelor girl. And, of course, in a year or two we’ll be coming home. Then you must spend the whole leave with us. We’ll see, won’t we? We won’t make any plans, but just be guided by circumstances. If you want somewhere to go in the holidays, there’s my old Aunt Mary in Preston, but you’d be bored to sobs, darling. No doubt Miss Farnborough will introduce you to lots of nice people in London, and you will have all the fifteen other mistresses to take you about. I expect you’ll be quite gay! ... Claire, darling, would you have gold tissue under this ninon, or just a handsome lace?”

For the next few weeks things moved quickly. In answer to inquiries about lodgings, Miss Farnborough wrote a second time to say that Miss Rhodes, the English mistress, had comfortable rooms which she was sharing with the present French teacher. She was willing to continue the arrangement, and, as a stranger in town, Claire would doubtless find it agreeable as well as economical. The letter was entirely business-like and formal, and, as such, a trifle chilling to Claire, for Miss Farnborough had been so warm in her spoken invitation that Claire had expected a more cordial welcome. Could it be that the shadow of officialdom was already making itself felt?

The next few weeks were given up to trousseau-hunting and farewell visits, and no girl could have shown a livelier interest in the selection of pretty things than did this bride of thirty-nine. Claire came in for a charming costume to wear at the wedding, and for the rest, what fitted her mother fitted herself, and as Mrs Gifford said sweetly, “It would be a sin to waste all my nice things, but they’re quite unsuitable for India. Just use them out, darling, for a month or two, and then get what you need,” an arrangement which seemed sensible enough, if one could only be sure of money to supply that need when it arose!

The day before her marriage Mrs Gifford thrust an envelope into her daughter’s hand, blushing the while with an expression of real distress.

“I’m so sorry, darling, that it’s so little. I’ve tried to be careful, but the money has flown. Going out to India one needs so many 

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