before he came forward and made his greeting.

“Holla, Mater! Sorry to be late. Not my fault this time. I was ready all right, but the car did not come round. Had a good crossing?”

“My dear, appalling! Don’t talk of it. I was prostrate all night, and Mason too ill to do anything but moan. She’s been no use.”

“Poor beggar! She looks pretty green. But— er—” The plain face lighted with an expectant smile as he turned towards the girl who stood by his mother’s side, still holding the precious bag. “You seem to have met a friend...”

“Oh—er—yes!” With a gesture of regal graciousness Mrs Fanshawe turned towards the girl, and held out her gloved hand. “Thank you so much, Miss Gifford! You’ve been quite too kind. I’m really horribly in your debt. I hope you will find everything as you like, and have a very good time. Thank you again. Good-bye. I’m really dropping with fatigue. What a relief it will be to get to bed!” She turned aside, and laid her hand on her son’s arm. “Erskine, where is the car?”

Mother and son turned away, and made their way down the platform, leaving Claire with crimson cheeks and fast-beating heart. The little scene which had just happened had been all too easy to understand. The nice son had wished for an introduction to the nice girl who a moment before had seemed on such intimate terms with his mother: the mother had been quite determined that such an introduction should not take place. Claire knew enough of the world to realise how different would have been the proceedings if she had announced herself as a member of the “idle rich,” bound for a course of visits to well-known houses in the country. “May I introduce my son, Miss Gifford? Miss Gifford has been an angel of goodness to me, Erskine. Positively I don’t know what I should have done without her! Do look after her now, and see her into a taxi. Such a mercy to have a man to help!” That was what would have happened to the Claire Gifford of a week before, but now for the first time Claire experienced a taste of the disagreeables attendant on her changed circumstances, and it was bitter to her mouth. All very well to remind herself that work was honourable, that anyone who looked down on her for choosing to be independent was not worth a moment’s thought, the fact remained that for the first, the very first time in her life she had been made to feel that there was a barrier between herself and a member of her own class, and that, however willing Mrs Fanshawe might be to introduce her to a casual friend, she was unwilling to make her known to her own son!

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