y grandmother's
mysterious illness, and Aunt Bertha's too--pretty Aunt Bertha, who
disappeared for a year at a time, for a `cure,' and came back looking so
worn and sad. That was the explanation of my boy cousin's violent
temper, and of the misery of his father and mother after each explosion.
And I, arrogant young schoolgirl, used to criticise their weakness, and
expatiate on the firmness with which I should bring up my own children,
and Aunt Mary would look at me so wistfully over the top of her
spectacles. Heigho! Well, then I _knew_, and after that I could not
rest. I grew nervous about myself; I got into the habit of watching
myself, as it were--waiting for danger-signals, for symptoms. I had
sense enough left to know that that was the best way to develop all that
I dreaded, and this last year I have been waiting for a chance to
consult a specialist and thrash out the question, I could not leave Aunt
Mary while she was so ill; after her death there was so much to be
arranged; now at last I've had my interview, and this is the result,
Jean, is it strange? I never once thought of this verdict. It seemed
the right and the wise thing to take skilled advice, but what I expected
was to be soothed and reassured. Aunt Mary always laid such emphasis on
the fact that I was my mother's child. It delighted her so, poor soul,
to see my quiet, level-headed ways. Whenever I had been particularly
controlled and sensible, she would repeat, `Yes, yes! You are a
thorough Neale; there is not one scrap of Strangeways in you.' I
expected Dr Greatman to realise as much, and assure me that I had
nothing to fear; that I was not the type; that some fortunate members of
the family always escaped. I thought he would perhaps lay down certain
rules, restrictions, cautions against over-excitement. Never, never for
one moment did I expect this."

Jean was silent. She had feared. Ever since receiving her friend's
confidence, her thoughts had hovered round this one absorbing question.
Would Vanna be justified in marrying? Now the greatest living authority
had answered strongly in the negative, and there was no escaping his
decree. She looked ahead, seeing her friend throughout the years, a
charming girl, a more charming woman; later on losing her freshness and
grace, and becoming faded and tired; later again, becoming old and
infirm, the senses failing--and always alone, for ever alone. The slow
tears welled to her eyes, a drop b