new-born baby in her arms, "and perfect as a bit of sculpture. Just
look at that hand."

"Faugh!" ejaculated Mrs. Dinneford, to whom this was addressed. Her
countenance expressed disgust. She turned her head away. "Hide the
thing from my sight!" she added, angrily. "Cover it up! smother it
if you will!"

"You are still determined?" said the nurse.

"Determined, Mrs. Bray; I am not the woman to look back when I have
once resolved. You know me." Mrs. Dinneford said this passionately.

The two women were silent for a little while. Mrs. Bray, the nurse,
kept her face partly turned from Mrs. Dinneford. She was a short,
dry, wiry little woman, with French features, a sallow complexion
and very black eyes.

The doctor looked in. Mrs. Dinneford went quickly to the door, and
putting her hand on his arm, pressed him back, going out into the
entry with him and closing the door behind them. They talked for a
short time very earnestly.

"The whole thing is wrong," said the doctor as he turned to go, "and
I will not be answerable for the consequences."

"No one will require them at your hand, Doctor Radcliffe," replied
Mrs. Dinneford. "Do the best you can for Edith. As for the rest,
know nothing, say nothing. You understand."