"You have always been, far dearer to me than myself," replied Mrs. Two children, who had been caught in the jam-closet: ingratiating smiles, back of which lay doubt and fear. Her expression was a little changed, less innocent, more discerning. Anna picked up an ancient magazine, and began to turn over the pages in a leisurely way. There were seven tales in all—short stories—a method of expression quite strange to her, after the immense canvases of Dickens and Hugo. This farewell had been particularly distasteful to him. As she came in this morning she saw that the lamp was still burning in the study; so she stopped at the door.
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