in bed, and her sister administered remedies of the chemist's
advising.

But she insisted on Virginia leaving her in the afternoon. Miss Nunn
might have something of importance to tell or to suggest. Mrs.
Conisbee, sympathetic in her crude way, would see that the invalid
wanted for nothing.

So, after a dinner of mashed potatoes and milk ('The Irish peasantry
live almost entirely on that,' croaked Alice, 'and they are
physically a fine race'), the younger sister started on her walk to
Chelsea. Her destination was a plain, low roomy old house in Queen's
Road, over against the hospital gardens. On asking for Miss Nunn,
she was led to a back room on the ground floor, and there waited for
a few moments. Several large bookcases, a well-equipped
writing-table, and kindred objects, indicated that the occupant of
the house was studious; the numerous bunches of cut flowers, which
agreeably scented the air, seemed to prove the student was a woman.

Miss Nunn entered. Younger only by a year or two than Virginia, she
was yet far from presenting any sorrowful image of a person on the
way to old-maidenhood. She had a clear though pale skin, a vigorous
frame, a brisk movement--all the signs of fairly good health.
Whether or not she could be called a comely woman might have
furnished matter for male discussion; the prevailing voice of her
own sex would have denied her charm of feature. At first view the
countenance seemed masculine, its expression somewhat aggressive--
eyes shrewdly observant and lips consciously impregnable. But the
connoisseur delayed his verdict. It was a face that invited, that
compelled, study. Self-confidence, intellectual keenness, a bright