"Are you attending her?"
"Yes; her husband came for me himself."
"I don't want to go," I said. "It will be very disagreeable."
"Yes, dear, I know it. But she needs a friend, as I said before."
I put on my things very reluctantly, and went. I found Amelia in a richly-furnished house, but looking untidy and ill-cared-for. She was lying on a couch in her bedroom; three delicate-looking children were playing about, and their nurse sat sewing at the window.
A terrible fit of coughing made it impossible for her to speak for some moments. At last she recovered herself sufficiently to welcome me, by throwing her arms around me and bursting into tears.
"Oh, Katy!" she cried, "should you have known me if we had met in the street? Don't you find me sadly altered?"
"You are changed," I said, "but so am I."
"Yes, you do not look strong. But then you never did. And you are as pretty as ever, while I—oh, Kate! do you remember what round, white arms I used to have? Look at them now!"
And she drew up her sleeve, poor child. Just then I heard a step in the passage, and her husband sauntered into the room, smoking.