arly in
the spring. Oh, I am very busy, and deeply interested. The whole thing
is profoundly interesting, fearfully so. I am reading medical books, not
only in English, but also in French and German. Do you mind if I go on
reading until dinner arrives?"

"Of course not. Why should you stop your studies on my account?" said
Florence.

The girl again favoured her with a keen glance, and then, to Florence's
surprise, instead of continuing her reading, she immediately closed her
book and looked full across at her companion.

"Why don't you read?" said Florence, in a voice which was almost cross.

"Thank you; I have found other employment."

"Staring at me?"

"Well, yes; you interest me. You are _fearfully_ neurotic and--and
anaemic. You ought to take iron."

"Thank you," said Florence; "I don't want anything which would make me
more hungry than I am at present. Iron is supposed to promote appetite,
is it not?"

"Yes. Do you live in this house?"

"I do," answered Florence.

"I have taken a room on the third floor, No. 17. What is your number?"

"Oh, I aspire a good bit," said Florence, with the ghost of a smile;
"the number of my room is 32."

"May I come and see you?"

"No, thank you."

"What a rude girl! You certainly are _fearfully_ neurotic. Ah! here
comes--no, it's not my dinner, it is yours."

The soup Florence had ordered was placed before her. How she wished this
bright-eyed girl, with the rude manner, as she considered, would resume
her German.

"Would you like me to go on reading?" said the girl.

"You can please yourself, of course," answered Florence.

"I won't look at you, if that is what you mean; but I do wish, if I may
not come to see you, that you will come to see me. There are so few
girls at present in the house, and those who are there ought to make
friends, ought they not? See: this is my card--Edith Franks."

"And you really mean to be a doctor--a doctor?" said Florence, not
glancing at the card which her companion pushed towards her.

"It is the dearest dream of my life. I want to follow in the steps of
Mrs. Garrett Anderson; is she not noble? I thought you would be
pleased."

"I don't know that I am; it does not sound feminine," replied Florence.
She was devouring her soup, and hating Edith Franks for staring at her.

Presently Edith's own dinner arrived, and she began to eat. She ate in a
leisurely fashion, sipping her soup, and breaking her bread into small
portions. Sh