but I refused. I preferred to be left.”

Mrs Fanshawe hitched herself into her corner, planted her feet more firmly on the provisionary footstool, and folded her hands on her knee. She had the air of a person settling down to the enjoyment of a favourite amusement, and indeed her curiosity was a quality well-known to all her acquaintances.

“Why?” she asked boldly, and such was the force of her personality that Claire never dreamt for a moment of refusing to reply.

“Because I want to be independent.”

Mrs Fanshawe rolled her eyes to the hat-rail.

“My dear, nonsense! You’re far too pretty. Leave that to the poor creatures who have no chance of finding other people to work for them. You should change your mind, you know, you really should. India’s quite an agreeable place to put in a few years. The English girl is a trifle overdone, but with your complexion you would be bound to have a success. Think it over! Don’t be in a hurry to let the chance slip!”

“It has slipped. They sail from Marseilles a week from to-day, and besides I don’t want to change. I like the prospect of independence better even than being admired.”

“Though you like that, too?”

“Of course. Who doesn’t? I’m hoping—with good luck—to be admired in England instead!”

“Then you mustn’t be independent!” Mrs Fanshawe said, laughing. “It was the rage a year or two ago; girls had a craze for joining Settlements, and running about in the slums, but it’s quite out of date. Hobble skirts killed it. It’s impossible to be utilitarian in a hobble skirt... And how do you propose to show your independence, may I ask?”

“I am going to be French mistress in a High School,” Claire said sturdily, and hated herself because she winced before the eloquent change of expression which passed over her companion’s face.

Mrs Fanshawe said, “Oh, really! How very interesting!” and looked about as uninterested the while as a human creature could be. In the pause which followed it was obvious that she was readjusting the first impression of a young gentlewoman belonging to her own leisured class, and preparing herself to cross-question an entirely different person—an ordinary teacher in a High School! There was a touch of patronage in her manner, but it was still quite agreeable Mrs Fanshawe was 

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