Mrs. Pomeroy’s opinion as to her looks had been quite correct; and it was only within the last fortnight that they had altered for the better. Within that fortnight her brightness and vivacity had ceased to be--as they had been for weeks before--wholly artificial; something of the look of nervous strain had gone out of her eyes, and her face was altogether less sharpened. Her smile now was genuine; and her voice was strangely tender and contented. “Very hard,” she said. “I have had to get used to a great deal of absence on his part. He has gone down to Brighton to-day, until Monday; he needs a little fresh air, of course. It is so long since he has been shut up as he is now.” “You must miss him very much,” said Mrs. Pomeroy placidly. Mrs. Romayne did not answer directly, except with a laugh. “I am almost inclined to envy mothers with daughters,” she said, smiling at Miss Pomeroy again. “I wonder, now”--a sudden idea had apparently struck Mrs. Romayne--“I wonder whether you would lend me your daughter now and then, and I wonder whether she would consent to be lent.” “I should be delighted,” said Mrs. Pomeroy, with vague amiability, and an equally vague glance at her daughter. “And I’m sure Maud will be delighted, too, won’t you, Maud?” “Delighted!” assented Maud, with pretty promptitude. “Well, then, we must arrange it some time or other,” declared Mrs. Romayne gaily. “Perhaps you would come and spend a week with me, Maud--that would be charming!” But she did not press the point, letting the subject drop with apparent carelessness, and talking about other things, always keeping the girl in the conversation; turning to her now and then with a pleasant, familiar word, or a gesture which was lightly affectionate. The mother and daughter had risen to take leave when she said carelessly: “Oh, by-the-bye, Maud, dear, have you anything to do to-morrow afternoon? I’ve been bothered into taking two tickets for a matinée, a charity affair, you know, but they say it will be rather good. It would be so nice of you to come with me!” “It will be very nice of you to take me!” was the response. “Thank you very much!” A minute or two more passed in the arrangement of the place and hour for meeting, and then Mrs. Pomeroy drifted blandly out of the room, followed by her daughter, and Mrs. Romayne was again alone. She walked to the fireplace this time, and putting one foot on the fender, stood looking down, her face intent and satisfied. “Just the right sort of girl!” she said to herself. “Just the right sort of girl!”