was saying.
"Is the new baby a pretty one?"

Dowie had not been one of those who had seen the gradual development of
the physical change in her. It came upon her suddenly. She had left a
young creature all softly rounded girlhood, sweet curves and life glow
and bloom. She found herself holding a thin hand and looking into a
transparent, sharpened small face whose eyes were hollowed. The silk of
the curls on the forehead had a dankness and lifelessness which almost
made her catch her breath again. Like Mrs. James she herself had more
than once had the experience of watching young creatures slip into what
the nurses of her day called "rapid decline" and she knew all the
piteous portents of the early stages--the waxen transparency of
sharpened features and the damp clinging hair. These two last were to
her mind the most significant of the early terrors.

And in less than five minutes she knew that the child was not going to
talk about herself and that she had been right in making up her own mind
to wait. Whatsoever the strain of silence, there would be no speech now.
The piteous darkness of her eye held a stillness that was
heart-breaking. It was a stillness of such touching endurance of
something inevitable. Whatsoever had happened to her, whatsoever was
going to happen to her, she would make no sound. She would outwardly be
affectionate, pretty-mannered Miss Robin just as Dowie herself would
give all her strength to trying to seem to be nothing and nobody but
Dowie. And what it would cost of effort to do it well!

When they sat down together it was because she drew Robin by the thin
little hand to an easy chair and she still held the thin hand when she
sat near her.

"Henrietta's quite well, I'm glad to say," she answered. "And the baby's
a nice plump little fellow. I left them very comfortable--and I think in
time Henrietta will be married again."

"Married again!" said Robin. "Again!"

"He's a nice well-to-do man and he's fond of her and he's fond of
children. He's never had any and he's always wanted them."

"Has he?" Robin murmured. "That's very nice for Henrietta." But there
was a shadow in her eyes which was rather like frightened bewilderment.

Dowie still holding the mere nothing of a hand, stroked and patted it
now and then as she described Mr. Jenkinson and the children and the
life in the house in Manchester. She wanted to gain time and commonplace
talk helped her.

"She won't be married again unti