to look at any more. Farrell wished he had left his remark unspoken, and
finding that he had somehow extinguished her smiles and her talk, he
relieved her of his company, and went away to talk to Sarratt and
Captain Marsworth. As soon as tea was over, Nelly beckoned to her
husband.

'Are you going so soon?' said Hester Martin, who had been unobtrusively
mothering her, since Farrell left her--'When may I come and see you?'

'To-morrow?' said Nelly vaguely, looking up. 'George hoped you would
come, before he goes. There are--there are only three days.'

'I will come to-morrow,' said Miss Martin, touching Nelly's hand softly.
The cold, small fingers moved, as though instinctively, towards her, and
took refuge in her warm capacious hand. Then Nelly whispered to
Bridget--appealingly--

'I want to go, Bridget.'

Bridget frowned with annoyance. Why should Nelly want to go so soon? The
beauty and luxury of the cottage--the mere tea-table with all its
perfect appointments of fine silver and china, the multitude of cakes,
the hot-house fruit, the well-trained butler--all the signs of wealth
that to Nelly were rather intimidating, and to Sarratt--in
war-time--incongruous and repellent, were to Bridget the satisfaction of
so many starved desires. This ease and lavishness; the best of
everything and no trouble to get it; the 'cottage' as perfect as the
palace;--it was so, she felt, that life should be lived, to be really
worth living. She envied the Farrells with an intensity of envy. Why
should some people have so much and others so little? And as she watched