Meg, who two years ago had been wishing to tame lions, was entirely shorn of her strength by the young girl beside her. She was conscious that in Sheila's presence she had no courage. A look of reproach or anger from her benefactor, though only a girl of twenty-one, was more appalling to her than the roar of a lion. She sometimes wondered at herself, as she remembered how in the old days the only thing she was in the least afraid of was her supposed father's stick, and even then she would never confess or show her fear. Now however the fear of disappointing her friend was so great that she lived a life of dread; and every day the feeling of nervousness increased. When Sheila had first taken her up and showered gifts upon her Meg was much less afraid of her benefactress than she was now, and consequently was more natural in her behaviour. Everything she did then pleased her friend, who would constantly praise her for her efforts to break herself of little habits and expressions that belonged to her old life. Now Sheila seldom praised, and had grown much more critical; consequently her protégé had become nervous, and made many more mistakes than formerly. As Sheila took up her book to read her companion followed her example, but both girls' thoughts were engaged with one another. Sheila was thinking how tiresome Meg was growing, and Meg was wondering what she had done to make Sheila speak and look so coldly at her. Did not she like her talking to Peter? Perhaps it was not the correct thing to do. The girl wished she knew more of the world and its ways: she was afraid that through ignorance she made endless mistakes, which must vex her friend who had done so much for her. It seemed to Meg that there was really no such thing as freedom in Sheila's world. There were evidently so many rules and regulations, about which she knew nothing, which could not fail to rob a person of her individuality. If only she might be herself and act without fear of making some terrible mistake. The girl let her book fall on her knee and looked around at the lovely garden, feeling it for the moment to be a prison. Her old longing for freedom took possession of her. What would she not give to be out on the wide heath able to live her own life without let or hindrance! The scent of the heather and bracken seemed to be wafted to her. She closed her eyes in the hope of being better able to realise it, but instead of the wide heath there came the sound of the tap, tap of her 'father's' wooden leg, and she looked up quickly with a sense of gratitude that she was at Friars Court, protected from all the misery and evils that had surrounded her old life. And, after all, how she loved the place. What could she have been dreaming about to think for a moment that the heath was preferable. Meg looked gratefully at Sheila. She fancied she saw her shiver.