She flung herself face downward on her bed and wept.

After a while she turned over on her back and looked at the room.

Not one little thing in the whole apartment but served to rack her very soul with the consideration of her mother's love, which she was perhaps about to lose forever.

The dainty curtains at the windows, the scarf on the dresser, the chintz cover on a chair--every one her mother had planned.

She could not remember how much her mother had scolded her, only how much she had loved her.