The Will and the Way by Bernard Capes — Read

She was standing by a window when Redding entered, looking down upon Tothill-street and into Broad-sanctuary, where in dark, drip and mist the Abbey loomed gigantic. There was a sympathy between her mood and the weather; it seemed hopeless that the sun could ever shine again as of old. And, in a way, for her, it could not. She had suffered one of those shocks of world-disenchantment, which are periodic throughout life, and which may be compared to the cracking and loosening in pupae of the shell which is to release their butterfly spirits. Only sometimes a shock will come so great and so untimely as to cripple the soul within; and Miss Vanborough, under the blow which had struck her, was feeling for the moment half-stunned and spiritually dead.

Miss Pringle was out, and save for the single maid whose duty it was to attend to her and to the door, she was quite alone in the flat. Queen Charlotte's Mansions--that skyward-lifting pile of dingy brick--is planned on an admirable system. It is a sort of cooperative club for the wealthy, where you take your suite of rooms, cosily self-contained, and live as privately as you wish without any of the responsibilities of housekeeping. There are two or three fine dining halls, served as in a club with a number of separate tables, and smoking and reading rooms on every floor. Housemaids, common to several suites, come in when summoned, make the beds, dust, put all straight, and retire. You can keep servants of your own, or none, as you please. If you prefer to meal in your private rooms, waiters will serve you. It all costs money, of course; but where that is no object, the manner of life is luxurious and independent. Miss Vanborough, looking out of her window, stood as remote, in a delicate felted solitude, as if she were buried in a lonely hermitage among woods.