Anonymous

Arrived in London, all May's worst anticipations were realised; for Mr. Lang accompanied them everywhere, and she had not a minute to call her own. He assumed an air of proprietorship which made her blood boil. "You ought to do this, Mrs. Burnside—you should see that," he repeated from morning till night; and, as Miss Waller invariably pronounced all his suggestions charming, it was useless for May to rebel.

So London proved the same weary old story over again—a life of outward glitter and show, of softly rolling carriages, of sumptuous dinners, and reserved seats; and within, dust and ashes, and Dead Sea fruit! May talked and smiled, but it was mechanically; her heart was far away.

She asserted herself sufficiently, however, to declare her intention of calling upon the Inglis girls in their flat in West Kensington. She had written to Lulu, who sent her a pressing invitation to come on Saturday afternoon, when they were at leisure.

Miss Waller instantly denounced the scheme as a wild-goose chase, asserting that May was certain to lose her way. They were still discussing it when Mr. Lang came in from Palace Gardens, as he usually did first thing in the morning, ostensibly to ask what they wished to do, but really to order them about at his sovereign will and pleasure. "Well, ladies, what's the programme for to-day?" he began.

May turned round from the window of the handsome drawing-room for which her aunt was paying a small fortune, thinking, as the morning sunlight fell upon his podgy figure, that Mr. Lang grew uglier and more common-looking every day. "I have promised to go and see my friends the Inglises this afternoon," she announced firmly.

"This is my new doctor—Dr. Inglis."—p. 509.

"And who may the Inglises be?"

"Some girls who live at West Kensington," returned May, colouring at his lordly tone.

"Their brother is a doctor—a very unsuccessful one at Beachbourne," put in Miss Waller irritably. "They are very poor, and live in a poky flat. What May can see in them I can't imagine; and I'm sure she'll get lost if she goes alone."

"I can take a cab, aunt." By a perfect miracle she had a few shillings in her pocket.

"I'll tell you what," pompously proclaimed Mr. Lang. "You shall go in a cab, Mrs. Burnside, if you really must, and I'll call and bring you back in my carriage. Eh, Miss Waller?"

"Oh, what a splendid idea!" gushed the spinster, brightening; and, though May protested earnestly against troubling Mr. Lang, he was resolute. Then he carried them off to inspect a picture in a Bond Street shop which took his fancy—a seapiece, with violently ultramarine waves tumbling about the canvas. May considered it a most irritating production, and boldly said so; for, despite her aunt's frowns, she refused to flatter Mr. Lang. He took her criticism very good-naturedly, however, and insisted on their coming to luncheon with him at a fashionable Regent Street restaurant, where only African millionaires and suchlike could afford to go.

But at length May's ordeal was over, and she drew a great breath of relief as the lift deposited her at No. 18, Windermere Mansions. Lulu herself admitted her, evidently delighted to see her, and announced that just then she was alone.

"Esther isn't back yet, but I expect her every minute," she explained. "Mabel, our chum, has gone to see some friends. We don't keep a servant, but a charwoman comes morning and evening. Our flat is a mere cupboard, as you see; but, such as it is, you are very welcome."

She conducted May over it, and tiny it certainly was; only one sitting-room, a speck of a kitchen, three small bedrooms, and a bathroom. But it was very comfortable and homelike; and, though many of the articles were merely of wicker and bamboo, it was furnished with a taste which betrayed the instincts of gentlewomen.

"How I envy you!" exclaimed May, as she sank into a chair in the cosy little sitting-room. And then, to Lulu's consternation and to her own intense disgust, she burst into tears.

Lulu looked quite alarmed; for the modern girl reserves all such exhibitions for the privacy of her own apartment, and tears and hysterics are as much out of fashion nowadays as poke bonnets and sandalled shoes. It is not that the new girl can't feel, but that she considers it undignified to cry.

"Forgive me," apologised May, blushing furiously. "I'm overtired—I've been doing too much in this heat. I feel quite ashamed to be so foolish."

"We'll have tea directly Esther comes; that will revive you," replied Lulu cheerfully and she proceeded to light a dainty spirit-kettle which formed part of a most inviting tea equipage. May watched her enviously, thinking how sweet and homelike it all was. She had never known a real home since leaving her father's house. Her married life was a horrible nightmare, and Victoria Square was little better; and if she yielded to pressure and married Mr. Lang——But no! that would not bear thinking of!

"There's Esther!" cried Lulu eagerly, as a latch-key clicked in the hall door.

May had expected to find Miss Inglis handsome; but she was not prepared for such a young goddess as now swept into the room, with a stride of long, well-knit limbs which made the place seem ludicrously small. Esther Inglis would have attracted notice anywhere, with her splendid, keen-cut, dark face and stately poise of head; and her family might well be proud of her.

She was better dressed than Lulu, in a plain but well-fitting gown which was very becoming.

"Tired, dear?" asked Lulu affectionately, as her sister, after greeting May, reclined her tall figure in a basket-chair.

"Rather; that is, I've a Saturday afternoon kind of feeling. The office was very hot, and the new man can't quite manage the telephone. Where's Mabel?"

"Gone to see her friends at Richmond. Give me your hat, dear."

She removed her sister's outdoor garb with a deft motherliness which charmed May. Miss Inglis was clearly accustomed to being waited upon; but it seemed quite natural, with her splendid face and figure.