disagreeable. “That will never do. You must put a stop to that.” 

 “I am sure we ought to.” 

 Virginia’s thin, timid voice and weak manner were thrown into painful contrast by Miss Nunn’s personality. 

 “Yes, yes; we will talk about it presently. Poor little Monica! But do tell me about yourself and Miss Madden. It is so long since I heard about you.” 

 “Indeed I ought to have written. I remember that at the end of our correspondence I remained in your debt. But it was a troublesome and depressing time with me. I had nothing but groans and moans to send.” 

 “You didn’t stay long, I trust, with that trying Mrs. Carr?” 

 “Three years!” sighed Virginia. 

 “Oh, your patience!” 

 “I wished to leave again and again. But at the end she always begged me not to desert her—that was how she put it. After all, I never had the heart to go.” 

 “Very kind of you, but—those questions are so difficult to decide. Self-sacrifice may be quite wrong, I’m afraid.” 

 “Do you think so?” asked Virginia anxiously. 

 “Yes, I am sure it is often wrong—all the more so because people proclaim it a virtue without any reference to circumstances. Then how did you get away at last?” 

 “The poor woman died. Then I had a place scarcely less disagreeable. Now I have none at all; but I really must find one very soon.” 

 She laughed at this allusion to her poverty, and made nervous motions. 

 “Let me tell you what my own course has been,” said Miss Nunn, after a short reflection. “When my mother died, I determined to have done with teaching—you know that. I disliked it too much, and partly, of course, because I was incapable. Half my teaching was a sham—a pretence of knowing what I neither knew nor cared to know. I had gone into it like most girls, as a dreary matter of course.” 

 “Like poor Alice, I’m afraid.” 

 “Oh, it’s a distressing subject. When my mother left me that little sum of money I took a bold step. 

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