felt Tom was right in saying that her aunt could not do without her for
very long. And she told herself sorrowfully that she must give up all hope
of sharing Pauline's flat when Clare went back to dull captivity at
Desborough Park. She could not be spared. It seemed doubtful if she would
be able to persuade her aunt and Tom to let her stay more than a day or
two when she made her promised visit in the following week.

She went up to her aunt's room to bid her good-night, feeling herself a
martyr, but determined to bear her hard lot with decent cheerfulness.

Miss Merivale was sitting at the old bureau where she kept her most
private papers. She had been reading over again the letter in which Lydia
told her of the birth of her little dark-eyed girl.

Many tears had fallen on the yellow pages before she put them away, and
she turned such a white, worn face to Rose as she entered, Rose felt
horribly ashamed at having ever thought of sharing Pauline's flat. And the
good-night embrace she gave Miss Merivale before going into the little
white room that opened from her aunt's had compunction in it as well as
warm affection.

"Aunt Lucy, do let Tom go with you to-morrow," she begged. "But must you
go to-morrow?"

"Yes, I must, dear. And I want to go alone," Miss Merivale answered. Then
she pinched Rose's cheek, trying to speak playfully. "You silly children,
am I not to be trusted to go anywhere alone? I shall start early, and get
back early. It is business I cannot put off, Rose. Perhaps to-morrow I
shall be able to tell you all about it."