be a _second_ said Miriam into the spare room, hoping to be left. Grace turned up the gas. M-m darling she murmured with timid gentle kisses, I'm so glad you have come. So am _I_. It's glorious to be safely here ... I shan't be a second. I'll come down as I am and appear radiant to-morrow--You're _always_ radiant--I'm simply grubby; I've worn this blouse all the week; _oh_ bliss, hot water. Sit on the rocking chair while I ablute; unpack my bag--D'you mind if I don't Miriam darling? Aunt and I called on the Unwins to-day and I haven't put my hat by yet. We've got three clear days--All right, oh my dear you don't know how glad I am I'm here--Grace came back murmuring from the door to repeat the gentle kisses. When the door was shut the freshness and quietude of the room enfolded Miriam, smoothing away grubbiness and fatigue. Opening her Gladstone bag she threw on to the bed her new cream nun's veiling blouse and lace tie, her brushbag and sponge-bag and shoes and a volume of Schiller and a bundle of note-paper and envelopes. A night-gown was put ready for her on the bed frilled in an old-fashioned way with hand-made embroidery. Her bag went under the bed for nearly four days. Nothing grubby anywhere. No grubbiness for four days. In the large square mirror her dingy blouse and tie looked quite bright under the gaslight screened by the frosted globe. Her hair had been flattened by her hat becomingly over the broad top of her head, and its mass pushed down in a loose careless bundle with good chance curves reaching low on to her neck. She poured the hot water into one of the large cream-coloured basins, her eye running round the broad gilt-edged band ornamenting its rim over the gleaming marble cover of the washstand, the gleaming tiles facing her beyond the rim of the basin, the highly polished woodwork above the tiles. She snuffed freshness everywhere. While the fresh unscented curdiness of the familiar Broom soap went over her face and wrists and hands she began to hunger for the clean supper, for the fresh night in the freshness of the large square bed, for the clean solid leisurely breakfast. Pushing back her hair she sponged the day from her face sousing luxuriously in the large basin and listening to Grace moving slowly about upstairs. Seizing a towel she ran up the little single flight and stood towelling inside Grace's door. Hullo pink-face, laughed Grace tenderly, smoothing tissue paper into a large hat box--I say it must be an _enormous_ one--It is; it's huge smiled Grace--You must show it to me to-morrow--Miriam ran downstairs and back to the mirror in her room to look at her clean untroubled face. Don't run about the house, come down to supper, called Florrie from below. 2 Have they brought the sausages, asked Mrs. Philps acidly. Yes, scowled Florrie.