'companioned,' new novels at the rate of a volume a day, she lost
all power of giving her mind to anything but the feebler fiction.
Nowadays she procured such works from a lending library, on a
subscription of a shilling a month. Ashamed at first to indulge this
taste before Alice, she tried more solid literature, but this either
sent her to sleep or induced headache. The feeble novels reappeared,
and as Alice made no adverse comment, they soon came and went with
the old regularity.

This afternoon the sisters were disposed for conversation. The same
grave thought preoccupied both of them, and they soon made it their
subject.

'Surely,' Alice began by murmuring, half absently, 'I shall soon
hear of something.'

'I am dreadfully uneasy on my own account,' her sister replied.

'You think the person at Southend won't write again?'

'I'm afraid not. And she seemed so _very_ unsatisfactory. Positively
illiterate--oh, I couldn't bear that.' Virginia gave a shudder as
she spoke.

'I almost wish,' said Alice, 'that I had accepted the place at
Plymouth.'

'Oh, my dear! Five children and not a penny of salary. It was a
shameless proposal.'