She was small and thin, with a , joyless face, which seemed all of the same dull grey . Grey hair, grey eyes, grey , a pinched-in mouth and deeply-furrowed forehead. She was dressed in black—shabby black, which is the shabbiest of all shabbies—and, looking at her, it seemed impossible to believe that there had ever been a time when she was young and happy, and had frisked and frolicked, and liked pretty things like any ordinary girl. Cynthia and Betty felt a chill of dismay, but Nan’s heart gave a of delight. This was one of the very starved, joyless lives which she longed to brighten; it would have been difficult to find a better type of the class. She walked quickly forward, and held out a warm, welcoming hand.  
“How do you do? I am so pleased you have come?”
 
Miss Beveridge looked at her coldly, then cast an inquiring glance around the room; at the hangings and furniture, at the glowing fire, at Betty slim and childish in her simple blue frock, at Cynthia with her flowing locks.
 
“Is—is Mrs Vanburgh not at home?” she inquired, drawing up her thin figure with an air of wounded dignity. “I understood that the hours mentioned were from three to seven, but if she is engaged—”
 
Nan smiled in the merry, radiant manner which made her look even younger than her years.
 
“I am Mrs Vanburgh!”
 
“Oh, indeed!” said Miss Beveridge coldly.
 
Why she should have taken the announcement as a personal insult the girls could not understand, but that she did receive it in such, a spirit was proved by the sudden which passed over her features even as she . She seated herself on the edge of the chair to which Nan escorted her, sternly refused an offer of tea, and only monosyllabic replies when spoken to. It was a terrible occasion! Nan took refuge in the resort of the , and the subject of the weather in all its branches.
 
“It is a very afternoon.”
 
“Very chilly.”
 
“It seemed in the morning as if it were going to clear up.”
 
“It did.”
 
“The forecast says it will rain before night.”
 
“Indeed!”
 
“November always is a month.”
 
No reply.
 
“In London there are so many fogs, but in the country the fallen leaves are almost as depressing.”
 
“Perhaps so.”
 
Nan looked across the room and made a desperate at her companions. Before doing so she made sure that Miss Beveridge was not looking, but she forgot that in turning her head in the opposite direction she was naturally vis-à-vis with Cynthia and Betty, and they—silly things!—simultaneously jerked with surprise, flushed and struggled after speech, hopelessly giving away the situation.
 
“Er—are you quite sure you will not have a cup of tea? Or—er, coffee? We have both ready. Or a high-tea downstairs, if you care for anything more solid.”
 
“I have had , thank you. I am not in the least in need of food,” replied Miss Beveridge in tones of coldness. There was a ghastly silence.
 
“ thing! Always did hate ’em!” soliloquised Betty.
 
“How dare she? Ungrateful !” Cynthia.
 
“She’s cross because she’s ; she’s just as miserable as she can be! Somebody else could comfort her, but I can’t. She thinks I am a chit. Perhaps I am, trying to do work that is far beyond me!” sighed Nan, with a heavy sinking of the heart. She could not attempt to speak, and the silence lasted several minutes, until at last Miss Beveridge roused herself to inquire hesitatingly, yet with a certain suppressed eagerness—
 
“Were you perhaps wishing to—er—to some classes? My time is disengaged on Saturday afternoons. My special subject is music, but I hold very high certificates, and am of course competent to take up other subjects.”
 
Nan with dismay! Here was a situation, to be treated as a schoolgirl whose education required finishing! She could hear Gervase’s laughter, the amused with which he would say, “Silly girl, serve you right!” Across the room Cynthia and Betty were sniggering, and biting their lips. This was indeed a of what she had expected. The blood flamed in her cheeks, but she answered enough—
 
“Oh no, I was not thinking of anything for myself. It occurred to me that it might be dull in those ‘Homes’ on holiday afternoons, especially for ladies who are strangers in London, and I hoped it might make a little change for them to come out to tea. It would certainly be a pleasure to me to receive them.”
 
“Indeed!” said Miss Beveridge coldly.
 
The which had in her face at the thought of the possibility of classes died away, leaving her looking even more bleached and hopeless than before. She pressed her thin lips together, looked at the clock, and inquired suddenly—
 
“Can you tell me the nearest way from here to Maida Vale?”
 
It was a direct intimation of departure, and Nan accepted it as such, giving the desired information, without protest, it is true, but in a manner absolutely of offence. It was raining heavily by this time, and she would fain have offered to whistle for a hansom, but she felt that such a would have been interpreted as an additional offence. When the visitor rose, however, she insisted upon accompanying her dow............