which, as it were, closed the door on that compartment in which her deeper feelings and ideas were kept.

“Well, Anna, and how is your little girl?” asked Dolly.

“Annie?” (This was what she called her little daughter Anna.) “Very well. She has got on wonderfully. Would you like to see her? Come, I’ll show her to you. We had a terrible bother,” she began telling her, “over nurses. We had an Italian wet-nurse. A good creature, but so stupid! We wanted to get rid of her, but the baby is so used to her that we’ve gone on keeping her still.”

“But how have you managed?...” Dolly was beginning a question as to what name the little girl would have; but noticing a sudden frown on Anna’s