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Miss Mason gave a little laugh.

“Wouldn’t ask that if you’d seen the furniture. Was so used to it it was a wonder I still went on thinking it hideous. I think it was after I’d been away from it for a year and came back to it that I knew how terrible it was. After that it remained terrible. It will all be sold. Have arranged for that. Couldn’t stay with it any longer than was necessary. Don’t care what becomes of it now.”

Miss Mason was feeling so light-hearted again she was almost reckless.

“Then you’ll buy new things?” asked the woman.

“Yes. Soft colours—blues and greens. Love blue. Your dress is lovely.” The words were jerky but genuine.

“It’s my favourite colour,” said the woman.

Miss Mason looked in the direction of a mirror near her. She could see both their figures reflected in it. Again a little wistful look crept into her eyes.

“I suppose,” she said suddenly, “that it was my dress those two girls were laughing at. Perhaps it is queer. Never thought of that before. Couldn’t change now, any more than I could change my skin.”