fruit and flowers, and hung them in the drawing-room. And when she saw the
blue egg in its gilt frame standing on the marble-topped table, she
wondered how she had ever loved it, and wished it were not there. It had
been one of Mamma's wedding presents. Mrs. Hancock had given it her; but
Mr. Hancock must have bought it.

Harriett's face had taken on again its arrogant lift. She esteemed herself
justly. She knew she was superior to the Hancocks and the Penne fathers
and to Lizzie Pierce and Sarah Barmby; even to Priscilla. When she thought
of Robin and how she had given him up she felt a thrill of pleasure in her
beautiful behavior, and a thrill of pride in remembering that he had loved
her more than Priscilla. Her mind refused to think of Robin married.

Two, three, five years passed, with a perceptible acceleration, and
Harriett was now thirty.


She had not seen them since the wedding day. Robin had gone back to his
own town; he was cashier in a big bank there. For four years Prissie's
letters came regularly every month or so, then ceased abruptly.

Then Robin wrote and told her of Prissie's illness. A mysterious
paralysis. It had begun with fits of giddiness in the street; Prissie
would turn round and round on the pavement; then falling fits; and now
both legs were paralyzed, but Robin thought she was gradually recovering
the use of her hands.

Harriett did not cry. The shock of it stopped her tears. She tried to see
it and couldn't. Poor little Prissie. How terrible. She kept on saying to
herself she couldn't bear to think of Prissie paralyzed. Poor little