There was a little pause, and the Baroness looted at her unfinished
letter as if she wished that Sabina would go away. She had foreseen
that before long the girl would make some protest against her position
as a perpetual guest in the house, but had no clear idea of how to
meet it. Sabina seemed so very decided.

"We have done our best to make you feel at home, like one of the
family," the Baroness said presently, in a rather injured tone.

Sabina did not wish to be one of the family at all, but she knew that
she was under great obligations to her hosts, and she did not wish to
be thought ungrateful.

"You have been more than kind," she answered gently, "and I shall
never forget it. You have taken more trouble with me in two or three
months than my mother in all my life. Please do not imagine that I am
not thankful for all you have done."

The words were spoken sincerely, and when Sabina was very much in
earnest there was something at once convincing and touching in her
voice. The Baroness's sallow cheek actually flushed with pleasure, and
she was impelled to leave her seat and kiss Sabina affectionately. She
was restrained by a reasonable doubt as to the consequences of such
demonstrative familiarity, though she would not have hesitated to kiss
the girl's mother under like circumstances.

"It was the least we could do," she said, knowing very well that the
phrase meant nothing.

"Excuse me," Sabina objected, "but there was no reason in the world