of her
brain? She felt sure there was a sort of empty attic, a large one, in
the top part of her right brain, it felt hollow, quite terribly hollow.
Probably the face came out of that. But then, how did it get inside the
wardrobe? and once inside the wardrobe, how did it get out again when
Molly really had the key?

She longed to speak to Miss Carew about this, but Miss Carew never
could follow a chain of reasoning. The nurse was more sensible, but she
thought that reasoning was too tiring for Molly--so silly! If only she
could be allowed to explain it all quietly and reasonably! And oh! why
did they leave her alone? She hated to be left alone, and she was sure
she told them so; and yet they went away. And then she began to work her
brain again as soon as the was alone, and she would be happy for a few
minutes with a new plan for shutting the face into the large empty attic
in her right brain and locking the door, when quite suddenly the face
opened the door of the wardrobe with its loose hands and looked out
again and jeered at her.

Even now, lying resting, and looking at the sun, Molly was glad that
there was no hanging wardrobe in the room; only one full of shelves. She
would certainly not use the same room when she went back to London. She
would only be in that flat for a short time, as she must now take a big
house.

As her eyes rested on the sails and the water, and were filled with the
joy of colour, she had a sort of delicious idea of her new house. It
should be very beautiful, most exquisite, quite unlike anybody else's
house; it should be Molly's own special triumph. It must have the
glamour of an old London house, its dignity, its sense of a past. It
should have for decoration gloriously subdued gilding and colour, and
old pictures, which Molly could afford to buy.

"And"--she smiled to herself--"as long as it is a house in the air it
shall have a great outlook on the sea and the sunset." The fancy that
had been so cruel in her sickness was a sycophant now that life was
victorious; it flattered and caressed and soothed her now.

Within a few days two theories were growing in the background of her
consciousness, not acknowledged or questioned while they took
possession. They took turns to make themselves gradually, very
gradually, and imperceptibly familiar to her. The first was founded on
the idea that she had been very ill a little sooner than was supposed,
and that she had imagined a great deal that