ABSTRACT
Miss Cardew was in the skimpy dressing-gown when Malden told her the news, but that did not prevent her hurrying down to No. 30. Quite unmindful of the fact – glaringly obvious to-day – that she possessed legs, she sat on a high chair by the sofa, her feet dangling, her white front awry, her spectacles very dim, a great gladness in her kind old eyes. Priscilla – twisted round from the bureau – was listening, her face grey and wan. She looked older than Miss Cardrew.
