When Florrie came in with another dish, Hilda looked up impatiently from printed matter, as if disturbed out of a dream, and Florrie put on an apologetic air, to invoke pardon.

It was largely pretence on Hilda's part, but it was life.

Then she had the delicious anxiety of being responsible for Florrie.

"Now, Florrie, I'm going out to-night, to see Miss Orgreave at Bleakridge.

I shall rely on you to go to bed not later than nine.