turned round: there were tears in her eyes.

"You used to play the 'Osborne Quadrilles' very nicely," observed
Miss Susan, suddenly. "Your playing has become very--very--"

"Disreputable," suggested Joanna.

"Well, not exactly. I was going to say 'unintelligible.'"

"It's the same thing." She rose, kissed her step-sisters, and walked
out of the room without a look at Miss Bunce.

"Poor Joanna!" observed Miss Susan, after a minute's silence.
"She has aged very much. I really must begin to think of my end."


Outside, in the street, Joanna's husband was waiting for her--a dark,
ragged man, with a five-act expression of face.

"Don't talk to me for a while," she begged. "I have been among
ghosts."

"Ghosts?"

"They were much too dull to be real: and yet--Oh, Jack, I feel glad
for the first time that our child was taken! I might have left him
there."

"What shall we sing?" asked the man, turning his face away.