Angela lived for weeks in a state of sleepless apathy, so far as her companion could see.

She scarcely spoke, and ate barely enough to keep herself alive.

She seemed not to sleep at all, for two or three times during every night Madame Bernard got up and came to her room, and she always found her lying quite motionless on her back, her eyes wide open and staring at the tasteless little pattern of flowers stencilled in colours on the ceiling.

Once Madame Bernard proposed to take away the night-light that burned in a cup on the floor, but Angela shook her head almost energetically.

She never opened a book either, nor occupied herself in any way, but seemed content to sit still all day and to lie awake all night, never complaining, and never even speaking unless her friend asked her a direct question.