A flash of the old temper had crimsoned Nora's cheek, but she made no
reply. Since then, aching as she was for a little human companionship,
she had spoken to no one.

She had had two long letters from Miss Pringle, whose star seemed
momentarily to be in the ascendant. Mrs. Hubbard had been ordered to
the seaside; they were later to take a continental trip. There was even
talk of consulting a famous and expensive specialist before returning to
the calm of Tunbridge Wells. But prosperity had not made Miss Pringle
selfish. In the face of the gift of a costume, which Mrs. Hubbard had
actually never worn, having conceived a strong distaste for it on its
arrival from the dressmaker, she had time to think of her less fortunate
friend.

While waiting for the situation which was sure to come eventually, why
didn't Nora run down to Brighton for a week after the terrible London
heat? One could get really very comfortable lodgings remarkably cheap at
this season. It would do her no end of good and, on the theory that a
watched pot never boils, she would be certain to find that there was
something for her on her return.

Miss Pringle's brother, it seemed, had had a turn of luck. Just what,
she discreetly forbore to mention. Certainly, it could not have been at
cards. Nora smiled at the recollection of the horror that Mr. Hornby's
remarks as to his earnings from that source had provoked. However, he
had most generously sent his sister a ten-pound note as a present. Miss
Pringle had, of course, no possible use for it at the time. Also it
appeared that the thought of carrying it about with her, particularly
as she was going among foreigners, filled her with positive terror.