They were men's footsteps, and the men entered the bungalow and talked in low voices.

No one went to meet or speak to them and they seemed to open doors and look into rooms.

"What desolation!" she heard one voice say.

"That pretty, pretty woman! I suppose the child, too.

I heard there was a child, though no one ever saw her." Mary was standing in the middle of the nursery when they opened the door a few minutes later.