There is a postscript to the story of the hotel child. A very few years later I heard of her marriage to the Prince d’Armaillh’ac-Ambry, the representative of the noblest, and one of the wealthiest, of French families. I believe that they live almost entirely on his estates in Brittany, and that the Princess interests herself personally in the numerous peasantry around them. Her two children, a boy and a girl, are brought up in great simplicity, and to the strictest and most orthodox Catholicism. IMPASSE IMPASSE (TO S.M.A.) Two, three, five Dedicated Virgins. They stood before their Reverend Mother, ponderous black folds of serge sweeping the boards round each flat-soled pair of black list slippers. “The orphans must go to the dentist,” said Reverend Mother, mournfully, yet with determination. “Here we are in a Protestant country. We must adapt ourselves to the conditions of our exile. The orphans will have to be taken to the dentist’s house.” The nuns looked at one another, and at Reverend Mother, and solemnly nodded. It was an innovation, but if Reverend Mother said so, it must be right. “Sister Clara and Sister Dominic, you will take three orphans to the dentist to-morrow.” Sister Clara drew herself up a little. Her throat swelled beneath the white swathings that bound her head and neck, and her double chin momentarily became three. “Yes, Mother dear,” she said proudly. Her Irish voice was rich and deep, compared with the thin, nasal tones of the Frenchwomen. “Shall I order a cab for them, Mother?” That was Sister Caroline, the _sœur econome_. “No, no. They must walk ... holy poverty.... You will put on the heavy travelling veils, Sisters, and the big cloaks, just the same as for a journey.” The heat of that would be stifling, in this weather and on foot! An unmortified thought.... Sister Clara stuck a pin in her sleeve. She would remember to confess a slight yielding to sensuality of thought. There had been similar yieldings, once or twice, within the last year. “Yes, Mother dear. Sister Dominic’ll sit in the waiting-room with two of the dear orphans, and I’ll be looking after the one that’s in with the dentist. I’ll not take an eye off of her, on any pretext whatever. I quite understand, Mother dear, that’s the way it’ll be. Make your mind easy.” One had to be knowing, and careful, going out into the world. There was a sense of adventure in setting out, the additional veil hanging swart, and straight, and heavy, pulling a little so that one’s head jerked slightly backwards every now and then. Sister Dominic held a stout umbrella in one black-cotton-gloved hand, whilst the other one grasped the wrist of the youngest orphan. The other two orphans, obscured in blue serge and hard, dark, straw hat-brims, each held on to a fold of Sister Clara’s habit.