and how could she know that, or read it right? It was at once too
much, and not enough, for her.

Five minutes after, Luclarion Grapp went by the parlor door with a
pile of freshly ironed linen in her arms, on her way up-stairs.

Desire lay upon the sofa, her face down upon the pillow; her arms
were thrown up, and her hands clasped upon the sofa-arm; her frame
shook with sobs.

Luclarion paused for the time of half a step; then she went on. She
said to herself in a whisper, as she went,--

"It is a stump; a proper hard one! But there's nobody else; and I
have got to tell her!"

* * * * *

That evening, under some pretense of clean towels, Luclarion came up
into Desire's room.

She was sitting alone, by the window, in the dark.

Luclarion fussed round a little; wiped the marble slab and the
basin; set things straight; came over and asked Desire if she should
not put up the window-bars, and light the gas.

"No," said Desire. "I like this best."

So did Luclarion. She had only said it to make time.