There he stood looking at her, standing on the edge
of the bed, waiting for her to cover him up and put him to sleep in his own
corner. 'Yes, Dandy, in a moment, dear--have patience.' She looked round
the little room, and, remembering all that she had suffered there, thought
that the walls must be saturated with grief, like a sponge.
It was a common thing at that time for her to stand before the glass and
address such words as these to herself: 'My poor girl, how I pity you, how
I pity you!' And now, looking at herself very sadly, she said, 'My poor
girl, I shall never pity you any more!' Having hung up her dress, she
fetched a chair and took various doses of chloral out of the hollow top of
her wardrobe, where she had hidden things all her life--sweets, novels,
fireworks. They more than half-filled the tumbler; and, looking at the
sticky, white liquid, she thought with repugnance of drinking so much of
it. But, wanting to make quite sure of death, she resolved to take it all,
and she undressed quickly. She was very cold when she got into bed. Then a
thought struck her, and she got out of bed to add a postscript to her
letter. 'I have only one request to make. I hope Dandy will always be taken
care of.
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