"Did you wish to see Mr. Mannering?" she began, addressing the florid gentleman. Then all at once it flashed over her that the something vaguely familiar in the faces of the two girls was not a misleading fancy, as she had thought. She really knew them, for she had met them at Peggy Raymond’s Hallowe’en party. So strong had Elaine’s feeling of forlornness become by now that even the appearance of these mere acquaintances gave her pleasure out of all proportion to its exciting cause. The color rose in her cheeks, as she said smilingly, "Why, good afternoon." "Good afternoon," said the girls in chorus, and returned her look blankly. It did not occur to her that her own tardy recognition should have given her the key for interpreting their unresponsive manner. The possibility that these acquaintances failed to recognize her, as she had come so near failing to recognize them, was far from her thoughts. She was being snubbed, taught her place. She would have to remember, henceforth, that a girl who worked in a real estate office must not expect cordial treatment from girls who, like the lilies of the field, toiled not, and yet outdid Solomon in gay apparel. Just what the florid man wanted, and whether he got it or not, Elaine was never exactly sure. For in the abyss of humiliation into which she had descended connected thought was impossible. In her misery and confusion she was conscious of but one thing, an overwhelming longing for the end of that dreadful day. Plenty of girls have gone home from just such experiences, to be cheered, soothed, encouraged, and sent out in the morning with teeth set and heart resolute. But the atmosphere of Elaine’s home was not of the sort to revive the fainting and inspire the discouraged. Mrs. Marshall, as well as her daughter, had spent a wretched day, weeping at frequent intervals, and bemoaning the changed fortunes which had brought her family to such straits. There was nothing in her companionship to invigorate the girl who crept home at nightfall, half crushed under a burden no less heavy because it was largely imaginary. Elaine’s evident dejection plunged Mrs. Marshall still deeper into melancholy, and the mother’s low spirits reacted on the girl. Instead of the mutual helpfulness which should have been given each was making it harder for the other. When Peggy Raymond made her appearance at eight o’clock Elaine was lying back in the easy chair, her eyes closed, and her face colorless. Mrs. Marshall, sitting on the other side of the round table, had the air of one who has expected the worst all along, and whose sole remaining comfort is the doubtful joy of saying, "I told you so." "Headache?" exclaimed Peggy sympathetically, yet cheerily too, for Peggy had an intuitive shrinking from the sympathy which knocks the props out from under a tottering courage. "Well, the first day of anything is always a hard day. Want me to rub your head?"