Nobody knew how on occasions Sylvia longed for another woman to whom to speak her mind.

She loved her husband, but no man was capable of entirely satisfying all her moods.

She started to go to the attic on another exploring expedition; then she stopped suddenly, reflecting.

The end of her reflection was that she took off her gingham apron, tied on a nice white one trimmed with knitted lace, and went down the street to Mrs.Thomas P.Ayres's.

Thomas P.Ayres had been dead for the last ten years, but everybody called his widow Mrs.T.P.Ayres.