Over it she slipped the fur coat. The warmth of it was better than a fire. It permeated her, sent a glow all through her chilled body. She looked at herself as well as she was able in the small mirror on her dressing-table and—thought of De Freyne. De Freyne only wanted well-dressed girls. She was well-dressed now. She had enough frocks to keep her looking expensively dressed for many months. She could not go another week without an engagement. Her money would not hold out longer than that. Even supposing that De Freyne, following his usual custom, should want to put her in the way of what he termed "a chance," she need not necessarily avail herself of it. It was sophistry and she knew it. Allowing herself no more time for thought she put on the toque, picked up the muff and went out. A motorbus took her to the theater. There she asked to see De Freyne, fearful lest he should have forgotten her name. But De Freyne had not forgotten it nor her. He saw her at once. He remembered the circumstances under which he had dismissed her, her inability to dress up to his standard and her resolve to keep straight. That had been too novel to slip his memory. His jaded, practised eyes took in her changed appearance, and priced her furs more accurately than she had done. He knew they must have cost a good many hundreds, and wondered who had paid for them. But he made no comment and asked no questions. He would hear all about it in good time. "Come for a fresh contract?" was all he said. "That’s right." Alexandra had not got back to Sidey Street when Maggy knocked at her door. She looked very fetching and contented in a gray squirrel coat, a present from Woolf. She often contrasted her lot with Alexandra’s and felt uncomfortable when she thought of all she had and all that her poor proud Lexie went without. When she heard that the latter was out she decided to await her in her room. Mrs. Bell accompanied her up to it. The first thing Maggy noticed was the absence of a fire. The tidy grate showed that it had not been lit that day. She shivered. "What time do you expect her in?" she asked. "She’s sure to be back by half-past four," said Mrs. Bell. "Well, hadn’t you better light the fire?" Mrs. Bell pursed her lips. "She don’t like her room hot," she mumbled. "Nonsense; it’s freezing!" A look, such as a person who is about to reveal a State secret wears, came into the landlady’s face. She dropped her voice to a tone proper to confidences. "To tell you the truth, Miss Delamere, I’m sadly afraid the poor dear hasn’t the money to pay for a fire. I’ve lit a bit of a one sometimes on my own, but coals is coals, and I’ve my living to make." "My goodness! You ought to have told me," said Maggy accusingly. "You know I would have paid for it."