me to a woman expert, who designed a nice little pad to round my
shoulders. I can't say that it was exactly a hilarious afternoon! And
now a month has passed by. For a whole month Mary Harding has
resolutely ignored Evelyn Wastneys, and devoted her time to the service
of others. I was just going to say "her whole thought" also, but
stopped short just in time. The plain truth is that the ignoring of
Evelyn engrosses many thoughts. She is a regular Jack-in-the-box, who
is no sooner shut in, than up bobs her head again, wailing miserably:--

"I'm lonely! I'm lonely! I want to go home!" Then Mary, the aunt,
snaps the lid more tightly than ever, but through the chink a persistent
whisper makes itself heard: "I'm lonely! I'm lonely! I want some one
to think of me."

The flat is comfortable enough, and I am well served with Bridget as
housekeeper, and a clean young orphan of seventeen to work under her and
open the door. The orphan was procured as much as a safety-guard for
myself, as an assistant to Bridget. In case anyone who knows me in my
true _role_ should by any possibility discover my hiding-place, and
appear suddenly at the door, it is better to keep Bridget in the
background, and as Emily knows me only in the character of aunt, I am
necessarily kept up to the mark in the matter of disguise.

I wear elderly clothes, tinted spectacles, and a dowdy wig, and with a
few touches alter the shape of my upper lip. That is all that is
necessary for ordinary life. The cheek pads are reserved for occasions
of special need! Emily considers me a "nice old lady, and young in my
ways". She likewise confides to Bridget that she shouldn't wonder if
I'd been quite good-looking in my day. Why did I never marry? Was it a
disappointment like?

In outdoor dress especially I look genuinely middle-aged. Young women
get up in the Tubes and offer me their seats! Volumes could say no
more.

As regards my work, I have discovered that in London it is as difficult
to get to know one's neighbours as it is to avoid knowing them in the
country. In my rustic ignorance I had imagined that all the inhabitants
of the "Mansions" would be keenly interested in the advent of a new
tenant, and curious about her personality. I imagined them talking
together about me, and saying, "Have you seen the new lady in the
basement? What does she look like? When shall you call?" but in
reality no one cared a jot. There has been another rem