Benches covered with red plush were on either side, and these were
occupied by fifteen or twenty poorly-dressed women. A little old woman,
very white and pale, stood near the window recounting her misfortunes to
no one in particular.
"I lived with her more than thirty years; I brought up all the children. I
entered her service as nurse, and when the children grew up I was given
the management of everything. For the last fifteen years my mistress was a
confirmed invalid. She entrusted everything to me. Oftentimes she took my
hand and said, 'You are a good creature, Holmes, you mustn't think of
leaving me; how should I get on without you?' But when she died they had
to part with me; they said they were very sorry, and wouldn't have thought
of doing so, only they were afraid I was getting too old for the work. I
daresay I was wrong to stop so long in one situation. I shouldn't have
done so, but she always used to say, 'You mustn't leave us; we never shall
be able to get on without you.'"
At that moment the secretary, an alert young woman with a decisive voice,
came through the folding doors.
"I will not have all this talking," she said. Her quick eyes fell on the
little old woman, and she came forward a few steps. "What, you here again,
Miss Holmes? I've told you that when I hear of anything that will suit you
I'll write.
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