"Keep her warm," he said.

"There isn't much else possible.
There is nothing the matter, only old age.

She seems to know you, Mary.
She is positively wagging her tail." "She is miserable without me," Mary said, wondering what she was to do about Fifine when she took up that temporary work which the Lady Principal of Queen's College had found for her.

Meanwhile she devoted herself to the little creature.

But about three days after Lady Anne's funeral Fifine solved all difficulties concerning her by dying quietly in the night.
Mary slipped in stealthily to the garden of the old house when the new owners were not likely to be about, and placed the little rigid body in the grave Jennings had dug for it, lined with a few flowers that had come up in the beds, snowdrops and wallflowers and little pale mauve double primroses.