Clara gave a little gasp.

"You are too kind," she exclaimed, "but I don't know when I shall be able
to repay you. It is--nearly three hundred pounds!"

"So long as you keep your word," Berenice answered, "and do not play
again, you need never let that trouble you. You shall have the cheque
before two o'clock. No, please don't thank me. If you take my advice you
won't spend another week-end at Bristow. It is not a fit house for young
girls. How is your uncle?"

"I haven't seen him this morning," Clara answered. "Perkins told me that
he came home after midnight with a man whom he seemed to have picked up
in the street, and they were in the study talking till nearly five this
morning."

Berenice rose.

"I came to see if you would care to drive down to Ranelagh with me this
morning," she said, "but you are evidently fit for nothing except to go
back to bed again. I won't forget the cheque, and remember me to your
uncle. By the bye, where's that nice young man who used to be always with
you down in the country?"

"You must mean Mr. Lindsay," Clara answered. "I have no idea. At Blakely,
I suppose."

"If I were you," Berenice said, as she rose, "I should write to him to
come up and look after you. You need it!"