The white curtain walls of the cubicle contracted, closed in on her. She
was lying at the bottom of her white-curtained nursery cot. She felt weak
and diminished, small, like a very little child.

The front curtains parted, showing the blond light of the corridor beyond.
She saw the nursery door open and the light from the candle moved across
the ceiling. The gap was filled by the heavy form, the obscene yet
sorrowful face of Connie Pennefather.

Harriett looked at it. She smiled with a sudden ecstatic wonder and
recognition.

"Mamma----"