Where am _I_?
What am _I_ doing ?" It was upsetting.
At length Florrie took off the bonnet and ran upstairs, and shut the door of her attic.

Apparently she meant to improve the bonnet by some touch.

After waiting nervously a few moments, the aged Hilda slipped silently downstairs, and through the kitchen, and so by the garden, where with their feet in mire the hare trees were giving signs of hope under the soft blue sky, into the street.

Florrie would never know that she had been watched.
III Ten minutes later, when she went into the office of Dayson & Co., Hilda was younger than ever.

It was a young, fragile girl, despite the dark frown of her intense seriousness, who with accustomed gestures poked the stove, and hung bonnet and jacket on a nail and then sat down to the loaded desk; it was an ingenuous girl absurdly but fiercely anxious to shoulder the world's weight.