“Of course,” Sarah admitted with a sigh, “I hate giving up my profession, but there is a sort of monotony about it when Jimmy insists upon being my only fare.”

“Is this the reason why Jimmy is making his great debut as a man of affairs?” Josephine asked.

“Not exactly,” Sarah replied.  “As a matter of fact, that was rather a bluff.  His mother is so afraid of his starting in some business where they’ll get him to put some money in, that she has agreed to allow him a couple of thousand a year until he comes in for his property, on condition that he clears out of the City altogether.”

“That seems quite decent of her.  Where are you going to live?”

“In the bailiff’s cottage on the Longmere estate, which will come to Jimmy some day.  Jimmy is going to take an interest in farming.  So long as it isn’t his own farm, his mother thinks that won’t hurt.”

Josephine laughed softly.

“A bright old lady, his mother, I should think.”

“Well, she has had the good sense to realise at last that I am the only person likely to keep Jimmy out of mischief.  He is such a booby sometimes, and yet, somehow or other, you know, Josephine, I’ve never wanted to marry anybody else.  I don’t understand why, but there it is.”

“That’s the right feeling, dear, so long as you’re sure,” Josephine declared cheerfully.

Sarah rose suddenly to her feet, crossed the little space between them, and crouched on the floor by her friend’s chair.

“You’ve been such a brick to me, dear,” she declared, looking up at her fondly, “and I feel a perfect beast being so happy all the time.”

Josephine let her fingers rest on the strands of soft, wavy hair.

“Don’t be absurd, Sarah,” she remonstrated.  “Besides, things haven’t been quite so bad with me lately.”

“You look different, somehow,” her guest admitted, “as though you were taking a little more interest in life.  I’ve seen quite a wonderful light in your eyes, now and then.”

“Ridiculous!”

“It isn’t ridiculous, and I’m delighted about it,” Sarah went on.  “You must know, dear, that I am not quite an idiot, and I am too fond of you not to notice any change.”

“There is just one thing which does make a real change in a woman’s life,” Josephine declared, her voice trembling for a moment, “and that is when she finds that it really makes a difference to some one whether she’s miserable or not.”

Sarah nodded appreciatively.

“I know you think I am only a shallow, outrageous little flirt sometimes, Josephine,” she said, “but I am not.  I do know what you mean.  Only I don’t think you help yourself to as much happiness from that knowledge as you ought to, as you have a right to.”

“What do you mean?” Josephine demanded half fearfully.

“Just what I say.  I think he is simply splendid, and if any one cared for me as much as he does for you, I’d—­”