Mrs.
Conisbee, sympathetic in her crude way, would see that the invalid wanted for nothing.
So, after a dinner of mashed potatoes and milk ('The Irish peasantry live almost entirely on that,' croaked Alice, 'and they are physically a fine race'), the younger sister started on her walk to Chelsea.

Her destination was a plain, low roomy old house in Queen's Road, over against the hospital gardens.

On asking for Miss Nunn, she was led to a back room on the ground floor, and there waited for a few moments.
Several large bookcases, a well-equipped writing-table, and kindred objects, indicated that the occupant of the house was studious; the numerous bunches of cut flowers, which agreeably scented the air, seemed to prove the student was a woman.
Miss Nunn entered.

Younger only by a year or two than Virginia, she was yet far from presenting any sorrowful image of a person on the way to old-maidenhood.

She had a clear though pale skin, a vigorous frame, a brisk movement--all the signs of fairly good health.