Mrs. March looked out with a shiver , and turned thankfully to her own cosy fireside again . Presently she thought she heard a low knock at the front door , and went to see . As she opened it a savage swirl of damp wind rushed in , and the shrinking figure leaning against one of the fluted columns of the Grecian porch seemed to cower before its fury . It was a woman who stood there , a woman whose emaciated face wore a piteous expression , as she lifted it to Mrs. March . `` You do n't know me , of course , '' she said , with a feeble attempt at dignity . `` I am Mrs. Baxter . I -- I used to live here long ago . I thought I 'd walk over today and see my old home . '' A fit of coughing interrupted her words , and she trembled like a leaf . `` Gracious me ! '' exclaimed Mrs. March blankly . `` You do n't mean to tell me that you have walked over from Oriental today -- and you a sick woman ! For pity 's sake , come in , quick . And if you 're not wet to the skin ! '' She fairly pulled her visitor into the hall , and led her to the sitting-room . `` Sit down . Take this big easy-chair right up to the fire -- so . Let me take your bonnet and shawl . I must run right out to tell Hannah to get you a hot drink . '' `` You are very kind , '' whispered the other .
`` I do n't know you , but you look XXXXX a woman I used to know when I was a girl .
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