tell you exactly what she reminds me of: do you know a picture in a very
big gallery in Florence of a woman who committed some crime? It's by one
of the pupils of one of the great masters; just try and think if you
don't know what I mean. Oh, must you go? But won't you come again, and
see how we get on, and how I bear up?"

When Molly did arrive, her dainty little hostess petted and patted her
and called her "Molly" because she "could not help it."

"Oh, we will do the most delightful things, now that you have come; we
must, of course, do balls and plays, and then we will have quite a quiet
day in the country in the new motor, and we will take some very nice men
with us. And then you won't mind sometimes coming to see people who are
ill or poor or old?"

The little voice rose higher and higher in a sort of wail.

"It does cheer them up so to look in and out with a few flowers, and it
need not take long."

"I don't mind people when they are really ill," said Molly, in her low
voice, "but I like them best unconscious."

Mrs. Delaport Green stared for a moment; then she jumped up and ran
forward with extended hands to greet a lady in a plain coat and skirt
and an uncompromising hat.

"Oh, how kind of you to come, and how are you getting on? Molly dear,
this is the lady who lives in horrid Hoxton taking care of my poor
people I told you about. Do tell her what you really mean about liking