"Rheumatism, my dear. Cheerful, isn't it, for a gym. mistress? It's been giving me fits all the week." "The east winds, I suppose. I know they make rheumatism worse." "They do. So does damp. So does snow. So does fog. So does cold. So does heat. If you could tell me of anything that makes it _better_, I'd be obliged. Bother rheumatism! Don't let's talk of it... It's Saturday, my dear. I never think of disagreeables on Saturday. Where's Miss Rhodes this afternoon?" "I don't know. She made herself look very nice and smart--she can be very nice-looking when she likes!--and went out for the day." "Humph!" Sophie pursed her lips and contracted her brows as if in consideration of a knotty point. "She was awfully pretty when I came to the school ten years ago. And quite jolly and bright. You wouldn't know her for the same girl. She's a worrier, of course, but it's more than that. Something happened about six years ago, which took the starch out of her once for all. A love affair, I expect. Perhaps she's told you... I'm not fishing, and it's not my business, but I'm sorry for the poor thing, and I was sorry for you when I heard you were going to share her room. She can't be the most cheerful companion in the world!" "Oh, she's quite lively at times," Claire said loyally, "and very appreciative. I'm fond of her, you know, but I wish she didn't grumble quite so much." She looked round the parlour, which was at once bigger and better furnished than the joint apartment in Laburnum Crescent, and seized upon an opportunity of changing the subject. "You have a very nice room." Sophie Blake looked round with an air half proud, half guilty.