How dismal her room looked, dismantled, and with one wardrobe door yawning to show dark emptiness within. How queer to think that this was the last time she would lie in bed in her room, waiting to be called. She had never before realised how much she loved her room, everything there was in it, and its exquisite privacy. That brought her to another disturbing thought. She tried to picture Stephen here, and thought how impossible it was; how impossible, and how embarrassing. Probably she would not feel that in a new, strange room. And yet . . . Hurriedly she switched her mind away from that picture, and turned on her side to look at the bridal dress, laid over the back of a chair. How pretty it was, with its soft, dull folds, and its long train. It would be nice to wear her mother’s veil, too, and to carry the sheaf of lilies that would arrive this morning. The going-away frock was packed in that suit-case; she would change from her wedding-dress to that in the hotel. It was queer to think that even your brushes and combs were new, a wedding present from Aunt Anne. It was as though you became a different person all at once when you had a fitted dressing-case of your own, and threw away all your old clothes.

The housemaid came with a can of hot water, and congratulated Elizabeth as she pulled up the blinds. Everyone seemed to think that this was the happiest day of your life; no one realised how mixed were your feelings.

She got up, and slowly dressed, putting on an old skirt and a knitted jumper. Stephen’s present to her lay in the flat velvet case on the dressing-table. He had brought it yesterday, but she thought she would not wear it until she changed into her wedding-dress. But she opened the case, so that while she brushed her hair she could look at the long string of pearls, and occasionally touch them.

She was to he married at twelve, so there would not be much time to attend to all the countless little jobs that were left. Perhaps that was as well. If you had nothing to do you might brood, and grow unhappy at the thought of leaving your home.

Lawrence looked unfamiliar at the breakfast-table, already dressed, save for the flower in his button-hole. When Elizabeth entered, he said, Here she is! as though he had been anxiously awaiting her. Miss Arden rose and kissed her with tears in her eyes, and said, My darling. Elizabeth clung to her for a moment, and then turned to open her letters.