detestable old woman I ever met."

"Still," said Nora slowly, looking toward the French window which opened
on the garden, at the sun streaming through the drawn blinds, "I don't
suppose one can live so long with anyone and not be a little sorry to
part with them forever. I was Miss Wickham's companion for ten years."

"How you stood it! Exacting, domineering, disagreeable!"

"Yes, I suppose she was. Because she paid me a salary, she thought I
wasn't a human being. I certainly never knew anyone with such a bitter
tongue. At first I used to cry every night when I went to bed because of
the things she said to me. But I got used to them."

"I wonder you didn't leave her. I would have." Miss Pringle attempting
to delude herself with the idea that she was a mettlesome, high-spirited
person who would stand no nonsense, was immensely diverting to Nora. To
hide an irrepressible smile, she went over to a bowl of roses which
stood on one of the little tables and pretended to busy herself with
their rearrangement.

"Posts as lady's companions are not so easy to find, I fancy. At least I
remember that when I got this one I was thought to be extremely lucky
not to have to wait twice as long. I don't imagine things have bettered
much in our line, do you?"

"That they have not," rejoined Miss Pringle gloomily. "They tell me the
agents' books are full of people wanting situations. Before I went to
Mrs. Hubbard I was out of one for nearly two years." Her voice shook a
little at the recollection. Her poor, tired, weather-beaten face