ever come across. Then there was no system, nothing
business-like about Molly as there often is in women of the modern
world. Miss Carew dimly suspected that any society of human beings
expects some self-discipline, and some sacrifice to ordinary rules. As
it was she wondered how long Molly's neglect of small duties and her
frequent insolence would be condoned.

All this, which had been coming on gradually, was positively nauseous to
the middle-aged Englishwoman whose nerves were suffering from the
strain, and she came to feel that it would be impossible to endure it
much longer. It would be easier to drudge and trudge with girls in the
schoolroom for a smaller salary than to endure life with Molly if she
were to develop further this kind of temper.

For months now Miss Carew had lived under a great strain. From the
evening when she had found Molly sitting on the floor with the tin box
open before her, and old, yellow letters lying on the ground about it,
she had been almost constantly uneasy. She could not forget the sight of
Molly crouching like a tramp in the midst of the warm, comfortable room,
biting her right hand in a horrible physical convulsion. It was of no
use to try to think that Molly's condition that night was entirely the
result of illness, or that the loss of her unknown mother had upset her
to that degree or at all in that way. The character of Molly's mental
state was quite, quite different from the qualities that come of grief
or sickness. Then had followed the very anxious nursing, during which
all other thoughts had been swallowed up in immediate anxiety and
responsibility.

During Molly's convalescence, in the quiet days by the sea-side, Miss
Carew began to reflect on a kind of coherent unity in the delirious talk
she had listened to during the worst days of the illness. And she also
noticed that Molly, by furtive little jokes and sudden, irrelevant
questions, was trying to find out what Miss Carew had heard her say.
Then it became evident that Molly attributed all the excitement of that
night to her subsequent illness--only once, and that very calmly,
alluding to the fact of her mother's death.

Miss Carew had no wish to penetrate the mystery of the black box and the
faded letters. She had a sort of instinctive horror of the subject, but
she could not but watch the fate of the box when they came back to the
flat. Molly paid no attention to it whatever, and said in a natural
tone:

"I shall