"But shall I be here to see her?
shall I ?" She paused again, and then, as though to banish thought, she began to sing in a low voice that was like a moan.

Presently her singing ceased, and she spoke again, but this time in broken whispers.
"How soft and glossy her hair is! I wonder if Fatimah will remember to wash it every day.

She should twist it around her fingers to keep it in pretty curls.

.

.