he opened her door and
peeped out into the corridor. There was just a glimpse of light, and
she could see pretty clearly from end to end. She could hear what
sounded like a person near the head of the staircase. Gwendolen darted
forwards towards the curtained end of the corridor. But when she reached
the curtain she saw old Robinson going down the staircase.

Gwendolen went back a few steps along the corridor and returned to her
room. She pushed the door open. It was too silent and too empty, it
frightened her. Should she ring the bell? If she rang the bell what
would she say? The dinner had been cleared away. What should she ask for
if she rang?

With a groan of despair she went outside again and again listened.
Somebody was approaching the corridor. Somebody was coming into the
corridor. She stood where she was. It was Mrs. Dashwood who was coming.
She had mounted the steps, and here she was walking towards her.
Gwendolen stood still and waited.

May saw the figure of the girl, clutching her dressing-gown round her,
and staring with large distended eyes like a hunted animal.

"What is it?" asked May. "Do you feel ill, Gwen?"

"Oh!" said the girl, with a shiver, "I'm so glad you've come! I can't go
into my bedroom alone. Oh, I am so wretched!"

"I'll take you into your bedroom," said May, and she led Gwen in and
closed the door behind them.

"You were in bed," she said. "Get in again and I will straighten you
up." She helped Gwendolen to take off her dressing-gown.

"You can't stay with me a little?" demanded Gwen, and her lips trembled.
"I've such a headache."

The handkerchiefs were still bound round her head, and were making her
hot and uncomfortable.

"Poor Gwen!" said May. "Yes, I'll stay a little. I dare say some
Eau-de-Cologne would help your headache to go."

"I haven't got any. I've only got scent," said Gwen, as she stepped into
bed.

"I have some," said May. "I'll go and fetch it. I'll be back in a
moment."

Gwendolen sat up in bed, drawing the clothes up to her neck, waiting.
The moment she was alone in the room, the room seemed so dismal, and the
solitude alarming. There was always the devil----

"Sitting up?" said May, when she came back with the Eau-de-Cologne in
her hand.

Gwendolen sank down in the bed. How comforting it was to have Mrs.
Dashwood waiting on her and talking about her and being sympathetic. She
had always loved Mrs. Dashwood. She was so sweet. Now, if only, only she