"Yes. No. It _was_ a good time, but--do you think anything ever _quite_ comes up to one's expectation? I had looked forward to that month for the whole year, and had built so many fairy castles. You have stayed in Switzerland? You know how the scene changes when the sun sinks, how those beautiful alluring rose-coloured peaks become in a minute awesome and gloomy. Well, it was rather like that with me. I don't mean that it was gloomy; that's exaggerating, but it was prose, and I had pictured it poetry. Heigho! It's a weary world." Claire's glance was not entirely sympathetic. "There are different kinds of prose. You will forgive my saying that your especial sort is an _Edition de luxe_." "I know! I know! You can't be harder on me than I am on myself. My dear, I have a most sensible head. I'm about as practical and long- headed as any woman of forty. It's my silly old heart which handicaps me. It _won't_ fall into line... Have you finished your mending? May I come upstairs and see your room while you dress?" For just the fraction of a moment Claire hesitated. Janet saw the doubt, and attributed it to disinclination to exhibit a shabby room; but in reality Claire was proud of her attic, which a little ingenuity had made into a very charming abode. Turkey red curtains draped the window, a low basket-chair was covered in the same material, a red silk eiderdown covered the little bed. On the white walls were a profusion of photographs and prints, framed with a simple binding of leather around the glass. The toilet table showed an array of well-polished silver, while a second table was arranged for writing, and held a number of pretty accessories. A wide board had been placed over the narrow mantel, on which stood a few good pieces of china and antique silver. There was nothing gimcrack to be seen, no one-and-elevenpenny ornaments, no imitations of any kind; despite its sloping roof and its whitewashed walls, it was self-evidently a lady's room, and Janet's admiration was unfeigned. "My dear, it's a lamb! I love your touches of scarlet. Dear me, you've quite a view! I shall have sloping walls when I change my room. They are _ever_ so picturesque. It's a perfect duck, and everything looks so bright. They _do_ keep it well!" "_I_ keep it well!" Claire corrected. "Lizzie `does' it every morning, but it's not a doing which satisfies me, so I put in a little manual labour every afternoon as a change from using my brain. I do all the polishing. You can't expect lodging-house servants to clean silver and brass." "Can't you? No; I suppose you can't." Janet's voice of a sudden sounded flat and absent. There was a moment's pause, then she added tentatively, "You have a cuckoo clock?" Claire was thankful that her face was screened from view as she was in the process of tying on her veil. A muffled, "Yes," was her only reply. Janet stood in front of the clock, staring at it with curious eyes.