A shadow fell over Claire's happy face as the practical application of this resolve came into her mind. Erskine Fanshawe! At the moment he was the one masculine figure on her horizon, but she did not disguise from herself that of all the men she had met, he attracted her the most. What a mercy that she had had the resolution to put a stop to a friendship which might have ended in unfitting her for the work in hand! It had been hard to refuse the desired information, but the fact that the second refusal had been twice as hard as the first was in itself a proof of the wisdom of her decision. And then, in illogical girlish fashion, Claire fell to wondering if perchance Captain Fanshawe would discover her address for himself? It would be the easiest of tasks, since he had nothing to do but to put the question to Mrs Willoughby. At one moment Claire openly hoped that he would; at the next she recalled the expression on Janet Willoughby's face as she stood staring across the supper room, and then she was not so sure. What if the continuance of the friendship brought trouble on Janet as well as herself? Laboriously Claire thrust the thought of Erskine Fanshawe from her mind, but just because inclination would have led her to so blithely meet him, she felt a keener sympathy with her companion's preparations for similar meetings. The time of examinations had come, and night after night the dining- table of the little parlour was littered with the sheets of foolscap which were to test the progress of the pupils throughout the term. Cecil's older forms had been studying _The Merchant of Venice, Richard the Second_, and the _Essays of Elia_; the younger forms, _Tanglewood Tales_ and Kingsley's _Heroes_. She had set the questions not only as a test of memory, but with a view of drawing out original thought. But, to judge from her groans and lamentations, the result was poor. "Of all the dull, stupid, unimaginative--_sheep_! Not an original idea between them. Every answer exactly like the last--a hash-up of my own remarks in class. If there's a creature on earth I despise more than another, it's an English flapper. Silly, vain, egotistical--" Then the French mistress would scowl across the table, and say, "Now you've put me out! I was just counting up my marks. Oh, do be quiet!" "Sorry!" Cecil would say shortly, and taking up her pencil slash scathing comments at the side of the foolscap sheets. Anon she would smile, and smile again, and forgetting Claire's request, would interrupt once more. "Can you remember the name of Florence Mason?" "If I strain my intellect to its utmost, I believe I can." "Well, remember, then! It will be worth while. She'll do something-- that girl. When you are an insignificant old woman, you may be proud to boast that you used to sit at the very table on which her first English essays were corrected." "So they are not all dull, stupid, unimaginative?"