In Dean’s Yard the snow, with blue evening shadows upon it, caught light from the sheets of stars that tossed and twinkled, stirred and were suddenly immovable. The Christmas bells were ringing: all the lights of the houses in the Yard gathered about her and protected her. What stars there were! What beauty! What silence! She stood, for a moment, taking it in, then, with a little shiver of delight, turned homewards. CHAPTER II MRS. TRENCHARD Millie, like many of the Trenchard ladies before her, kept a diary. She had kept it now for three years, and it had not during that time, like the diaries of other young ladies, died many deaths and suffered many resurrections, but had continued with the utmost regularity and discipline. This regularity finds its explanation in the fact that Millie really was interested in other people as well as in herself, was sometimes surprised at her cleverness and in turn suspicious of it—in fact, she knew as much about the world as most girls of eighteen who have been “finished” in Paris: she thought that she knew more than she did, and was perfectly determined to know a great deal more than she thought she knew. These were some entries: _Dec. 6th._ Tried on the new white silk, but it won’t do even now—too tight and makes me skimpy—Refused to let mother come with me this time. Took Aunt Betty instead, and we saw a _peach_ of a hat at Reneé’s which I’d give my eyes for, only of course I haven’t got the money now with Christmas coming and everything. Aunt Betty said it was much better wanting things you can’t have, because then you go on being excited, but that’s of course _absurd_ and just like Aunt Betty.