Thus abandoned and at rest, there was something strangely pitiful in the whole figure, for all its grace.
A wave of feeling rose in the girl's breast.

She slipped softly from her hiding-place, took a silk wrap that was lying on a chair, and approached Mrs.Burgoyne.
'Let me put this over you.

Won't you sleep before dinner?
And I will shut the window.

It is getting cold.' Mrs.Burgoyne opened her eyes in astonishment, and murmured a few words of thanks.
Lucy covered her up, closed the window, and was stealing away, when Mrs.
Burgoyne put out a hand and touched her.
'It is very sweet of you to think of me.' She drew the girl to her, enclosed the hand she had taken in both hers, pressed it and released it.

Lucy went quietly out of the room.
Then till dinner she sat reading her New Testament, and trying rather piteously to remind herself that it was Sunday.