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poke, and she felt elated. She made another effort. "Thank you very much; it's most refreshing. No--no toast now--but is there some more tea?" She drank it greedily and lay back upon the pillows with a sigh. Images were forming; memories were coming back now--scraps of things. There was a young girl whom she loved dearly. She had brown hair, very blue eyes and a delicious profile. She was tall and slender. She wore a blue serge suit. Her name--was--was Dorothy. She spread her palms upon the sheet and felt it cool and refreshing. "I'm afraid I've had a fever," she said slowly. "I think I have it still. I--I have such nightmares when I sleep--such nightmares." She shuddered. "Well," said the landlady cheerfully, "you'll feel better now. Take it from me, tea's the thing." She gathered up the napkin, cup and saucer and placed them on the tray. "Well, I'll let you be quiet, and I'll drop in again about five." Now another memory came, a conscious thought connection. She remembered that Mrs. Bell had told her of her faithful landlady, Mrs. Mellen, with whom she always stopped when she came North; she remembered calling there many times for Mary, her smart motor waking the quiet, unpretentious street. Now she remembered recalling the boarding house and seeking shelter there in her fear and pain. Fear and pain--why, what was it? There was something cataclysmic, overpowering, that had happened. What could it be? Something was hanging over her head, some dreadful punishment. Her struggle to clear the mists from her brain rendered her more wildly feverish, then stupefied her to heavy sleep. When she awoke again it was to see the kindly fat face of Mrs. Mellen beaming at her from the foot of the bed. "That's it," she nodded approvingly; "you've had a nice nap. Head's better, I'm sure. Here's another cup of tea, and I brought you up the evening paper; thought you might want to look it over. And if you'll give me your trunk checks, I'll send the expressman after your baggage." "My trunk checks--what did I do with them? Why, of course, I gave them to my maid." A sudden instinct that she did not wish to see her maid, or be followed by her baggage, made her stop short in her speech. "Oh, your maid!" said Mrs. Mellen. "I'm glad you told me--I'll have to hold a room. You didn't say anything about her last night, so I hadn't made any provision. Dear, dear! And when do you calculate she's liable to get here?" Mrs. Mart
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