Maggy had all but finished turning Alexandra’s coat and skirt. Alexandra had adapted two Indian shawls into an effective dress for Maggy. The work was too hastily done to bear inspection at close quarters or much strain by its wearer. They had been steadily at it for five hours. It was Maggy who gave in first. She finished machining with a savage jerk, leaving the handle to revolve by itself. "Let’s go to bed," she said. "I’ll get up half an hour earlier and finish that." Alexandra went on. She was not going to be beaten for the sake of half an hour. Besides, she knew that Maggy in the cashmere shawl arrangement would please De Freyne. She, at any rate, would pass muster. "I’m not so very tired now," she answered without looking up, "and I may be in the morning." Maggy shook her hair down and slipped out of her clothes with the celerity that comes of practise between the acts. She did not even trouble to take the paint off her face. She got into bed and lay watching Alexandra working by the guttering candle-light. She did not talk. She was too utterly tired. At last Alexandra’s work was done. She hung up the dress and put away the needles and cotton. She had a strong inclination to get into bed without more ado than Maggy had shown; but habit was not to be denied. She knew she would not be able to rest properly unless she was clean and cool. She brushed her hair, washed her face and hands, brushed her teeth. A huge sigh from Maggy’s bed made her turn. "Am I keeping you awake?" "No. I sighed because you’re so different to me. _I_ couldn’t wash to-night. And I knew my hair’d be a mat in the morning and the pillow pink from my cheeks." "I wish you didn’t paint. There’s no harm in girls doing it if they need it, but you spoil yourself." "Force of habit. Mother made up my face from the time I was ten." Alexandra in her nightdress knelt down at the side of her bed. Maggy never said prayers. To see Alexandra say them, she said, was the nearest she would ever get to such things. She had never been taught to pray when a child. "Might as well drop Him a hint that we’re at the end of our tether," she suggested presently. When Alexandra rose from her knees Maggy was sitting up in bed watching her, her hands clasping her legs. "And you mean to say that you believe somebody hears you!" she said wonderingly. "Yes." "And does what you ask?" "Yes—in the end."