When the twins had first come to live in the 208 house, they were thin and bony, their tiny mouths crying for food. My servant. She had a feeling as though something had dropped from her eyes, as though she had just discovered herself for the first time—discovered herself as a sleepwalker might do, abruptly among dangers, hindrances, and perplexities, on the verge of a cardinal crisis. “You are positively eloquent to-night—both of you,” she declared. ‘Would you care for some refreshment? A glass of wine, perhaps?’ ‘Nothing, merci, I do not remain,’ she answered, although she did not rise. I asked him—to take me away. It runs about gayly, it romps, it is bright and pretty, it has enormous quantities of soft hair and more power of expressing affection than its brothers. I'm sure she'll let me go, though. ‘She wormed it out of me, the little fiend. “You see, dear, one IS passionately anxious for something—what is it? One wants to be CLEAN. “I think that I know very well what I am saying,” she answered.
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