Then, she judged, he had at last got the straight of it. How straight the tale must have been, coming from Mrs. Van Suydam--how she must have hit out from the shoulder, defeated as she was by Eva who took no part in it--how bitterly, in short, she must have told her story to this old friend, was a thing that he would never tell me except fragmentarily. “Lavinia went up there to fetch Nicholas home,” he went into it. He implied that she had thus flung down her gauntlet to fate. Her head scarcely reached her son’s shoulder; but she had dominated him always, and she would dominate him now. She had felt from the start that something dreadful was to happen. There was an underlying meaning to this. It was her duty to find the meaning, if her son were close to it, and she felt in her bones that he was. She felt that it might be the meaning of life itself. One could not manage life, which had a way of sneaking up behind and clubbing one through the medium of the child. She had reported to Mr. Tillinghast that she had said to her son: “Please don’t keep me waiting.” And instantly she knew that she had lost. Stiff and straight, she faced him in silence. She waved off his offer to escort her to her carriage. “Nicholas was very quiet, too, she told me,” continued Mr. Tillinghast. “She looked back from the head of the stairs. She knew that already she was forgotten. She said that at this moment she tasted bitterness.” It was from force of habit only that her lips said “Humph! Indeed!” I drank tea that was strong from the bottom of the pot. When I thought it safe to glance at Mr. Tillinghast, I said to him: “Thank you for telling me.” “What can you mean, dear Mrs. Avery?” demanded Miss Augusta curiously. “Oh--” I said flippantly, giving it to them for what it was worth--“there are always two sides, aren’t there?” [Illustration] II The sun shone, sparrows twittered love, and false spring tricked me into a rebirth of my first delight in New York. If I sat long enough on the bench in Washington Square I would catch the early crocuses springing up. But it was December, and nothing pleasant could last. There was dirty weather lying dead ahead.