So entirely was she the slave of her mania of hate that she now neglected her business and employed the greater portion of each day in watching the home in St. John's Wood.
She did not herself question the doctor's servants, as it might stand in the way of future plans to be recognized by them, but she discovered several shops at which the family dealt, and would go into these under the pretext of buying some small article, and elicit a good deal of information by means of casual inquiries about Mrs. Duncan.
She learnt that Mary was "doing well, but suffering from great weakness."
There was one old woman who kept a newspaper shop. She was very fond of a gossip with a customer, and was also wont to take a deep interest in all her neighbours' affairs, prying assiduously into them whenever possible.
Susan had soon discovered these useful traits in the old woman's character, so often called on her with the object of sounding her.
One day, about a week after the birth of Mary's child, Susan went into the shop and purchased a copy of The Guardian newspaper.
"Good morning, Mrs. Harris," she said, "I have not seen you for some days; I hope you are well."
"As well as can be expected, Miss, in this world of misery and trouble."
"Why, Mrs. Harris, I should not have thought that the world was using you very hardly. But I suppose when one is a sympathetic soul like you, ever thinking over other people's woes, one gets through a good deal of suffering by proxy."
Mrs. Harris hardly understood the meaning of the words, certainly not the sarcastic drift of them, but took them as a complimentary tribute to the tenderness of her heart; so she shook her curls slowly backwards and forwards and looked mournful.