The giant figure of Mrs.Wragge stalked into the room, and stopped opposite Magdalen in solemn astonishment.
"Where are your Things ?" asked Mrs.Wragge, with a burst of incontrollable anxiety.

"I've been upstairs looking in your drawers.
Where are your night-gowns and night-caps?
and your petticoats and stockings?
and your hair-pins and bear's grease, and all the rest of it ?" "My luggage is left at the railway station," said Magdalen.
Mrs.Wragge's moon-face brightened dimly.

The ineradicable female instinct of Curiosity tried to sparkle in her faded blue eyes--flickered piteously--and died out.
"How much luggage ?" she asked, confidentially.

"The captain's gone out.
Let's go and get it!" "Mrs.Wragge!" cried a terrible voice at the door.
For the first time in Magdalen's experience, Mrs.Wragge was deaf to the customary stimulant.

She actually ventured on a feeble remonstrance in the presence of her husband.
"Oh, do let her have her Things!" pleaded Mrs.Wragge.