“Don't be angry with me for asking,” said Mrs. Wragge, as they sat together at the tea-table. “Are you troubled, my dear, in your mind?”
“Yes,” replied Magdalen. “Don't notice me. My trouble will soon be over.”
She waited patiently until Mrs. Wragge had made an end of the meal, and then went upstairs to her own room.
“Monday!” she said, as she sat down at her toilet-table. “Something may happen before Monday comes!”
Her fingers wandered mechanically among the brushes and combs, the tiny bottles and cases placed on the table. She set them in order, now in one way, and now in another—then on a sudden pushed them away from her in a heap. For a minute or two her hands remained idle. That interval passed, they grew restless again, and pulled the two little drawers backward and forward i
