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 descended the stairs. She had large black eyes, a high nose, and tightly drawn white hair streaked with black.

"Lady Macbeth!" whispered Mr. Windrom, tapping his wife's arm and making a face like some sixty-year-old schoolboy. "Mum's the word, eh? De mortuis"

Mrs. Windrom was nettled. "What I can't make out," she said, "is how a squat little doctor could have a sister like that!"

"You're always running on to things you can't make out Claudia. It's scarcely for want of trying."

"I have to keep my eyes open for two, for you never see anything, and Girlie's blind to things she should see. If she'd had a little of Louise's vim four years ago"

Mr. Windrom came to a halt and made a queer grimace.

"What's the matter?"

"I forgot my handkerchief."

"Really, Charles! If I reminded you once I reminded you a dozen times."

Mr. Windrom sneezed, loud and long, and turned back towards his room. "Come now, Claudie," he protested, "make it six."

Miriam, on the heels of the Windroms, paused to look over the railing of the balcony. All her coaching had been leading up to this event, and there was