existed which did not express itself in sound or in things which
one could see. Chairs held out their arms to emptiness--cushions
were not pressed by living things--only the people in the
pictures were looking at something, but one could not tell what
they were looking at.

But on the fourth floor was the Closed Room, which she must go
to--because she must go to it--that was all she knew.

She began to mount the stairs which led to the upper floors. Her
shabby doll was held against her hip by one arm, her right hand
touched the wall as she went, she felt the height of the wall as
she looked upward. It was such a large house and so empty. Where
had the people gone and why had they left it all at once as if
they were afraid? Her father had only heard vaguely that they had
gone because they had had trouble.

She passed the second floor, the third, and climbed towards the
fourth. She could see the door of the Closed Room as she went up
step by step, and she found herself moving more quickly. Yes, she
must get to it--she must put her hand on it--her chest began to
rise and fall with a quickening of her breath, and her breath
quickened because her heart fluttered--as if with her haste. She
began to be glad, and if any one could have seen her they would
have been struck by a curious expectant smile in her eyes.

She reached the landing and crossed it, running the last few
steps lightly. She did not wait or stand still a moment. With the
strange expectant smile on her lips as well as in her eyes, she
put her hand upon the door--not upon the handle, but upon the