On my last day Miss inter told me about Dr. and Mrs. Maudsley.

    Leaving gates open and o ots pram e anot t t o be none ts temporary disappearance . t out of ion was called for.

    t feel able to approacly about it. tood t trange at to go t  encouraged to keep tance is o say. Instead, t tor ly may or may not  a ne time.

    Dr. Maudsley  young, yet ties  tall, nor really very muscular, but ality, of vigor about o stride along at a great pace,  effort. er to finding alking into turning to find ing  of keeping up. tc mental liveliness. You could  but quick, y for finding t  person at t time. You could see it in , intent, rong, neat eyebrows above.

    Maudsley ’s no bad tor. ep on t tients art feeling better already. And not least, tonic in ’s  made a difference to ients lived or died, and tered hey lived.

    Dr. Maudsley  love of intellectual activity. Illness o  rest until . Patients got used to urning up at t t t puzzling over toms, to ask one more question. And once  a diagnosis, treatment to resolve. ed t of all treatments, but  kept coming back to somet from a different angle, constantly casting about for tiny fragment of kno o get rid of t but to understand t in an entirely neelligent and amiable, ionally good doctor and a better t.

    tion of village men included t like to be left out of anytrio and listened attentively as ted tale. tes left open,  on to ter some minutes at tory: t in tor.

    ‘the younger Fred Jameson said finally.

    ‘Out of control,“ added the older Fred Jameson.

    ‘And anding to one side, il no.

    Mr. Bonner took ling breat it seems to me t rig got apped imes.

    All t their shoes.

    ‘Leave it or. ”I’ll speak to the family.“

    And t. t. It o tor, the village elder, now.

    to t tor actually did o his wife.

    ‘I doubt t any ,“ selling tory. ”You kno  ill, t be told not to do it again. Poor Mary.“ And sed urned o her husband.

    Mrs. Maudsley tractive tily, and   a trace of gray in it yle of sucy t only a true beauty  be made plain by it. hen she moved, her form had a rounded, womanly grace.

    tor kne too long for it to make any difference to him.

    ‘t tally retarded.“

    ‘Surely not!“

    ‘It’s  least.“

    S. “ is just old-fasion is more understanding.”

    tor  atistically unlikely t tal abnormality in t out until  did not surprise  o believe ill of any-me, ake for granted t the rumor was ill-founded gossip.

    ‘I’m sure you are rig meant rying to get o believe only rue; so t could admit no difference betrue and w was good.

    ‘ hen?“ she asked him.

    ‘Go and see t of a , but o see me if I go.“

    Mrs. Maudsley nodded, . “ about t do you know of her?”

    ‘Very little.“

    And tor continued to tinued er a quarter of an or said, “Per go, t sooner see anot do you say?”

    And so ter Mrs. Maudsley arrived at t t door. Astoniso get no anse to say so tc in. No one able, broarting to collapse upon t to a sink piled y plates, and t inside you could ell day from nigy  told o knoigortoises off on  from room to room looking for Isabelle, but on taking in tness t lurked everywhere.

    tired easily, and s manage tairs very  s, or meant to clean t, and to be , sly concentrated on feeding t mucy, and it y, and  stayed udy,  dropped to to be, and it soon occurred to  it o c out once a year to do it once a week.

    Mrs. Maudsley didn’t like ains, and sig tarnis at tairs and t music t tered all over t doomatically to retrieve a playing card, t   a loss, so great  t covering it and, being a fastidious,  it doorn beto end tact bety, faintly sticky playing card, and o put t  t one. Eventually, ible s on t of the room.

    tter. It y, certainly, and t  t even in t  tic family, s bed. tucked into a dark corner bets of s  a flea-ridden blanket and a filt first sook it for a cat’s bed. tted t out. It was Jane Eyre.

    From to ture o facilitate turned to face a  s place under t be inctly. On tained blackened, brittle stems, and around it a neat circle of papery petals like aso up; it crumbled, leaving a nasty yelloain between e-gloved fingers.

    Mrs. Maudsley seemed to slump doo tool.

    tor’s  a bad o believe t God actually did cen to everytoo taken up ing out to feeling in o notice any ot  all t realizing it.

    ool, staring into space? t keep topped up. No ent of to o  racted, absent fas she piano.

    t resounded in t, most un-pianolike noise imaginable. t because ted, unplayed and untuned, for many years. It ion of trument’s strings antly accompanied by anot ed,  of a screec of a cat .

    Mrs. Maudsley  of . On ared at tood up, o  s moment to register t s alone.

    t figure in we—