She smiled gravely, steadily, and shook hands; and carried off her grief, her frustration, her ever-lasting tragedy, safe and intact and with pomp away from the poor, pretty little chit whom destiny had chosen to be the instrument of devastation. Lilian sat dulled. The keys of the house lay beside the damp and creased club necktie. She heard a taxi arrive and the door bang and the taxi depart. A hot, dry, mournful wind of the summer night blew the curtains with a swish suddenly inwards and made Lilian shiver. Ah! What would she not have given for an endless, tearful, sobbing talk with the only other creature on earth who had worshipped Felix? How she would have confessed, abased herself, accused herself, excused herself, abandoned herself, uncovered her inmost soul, at the signal of one soft word from Isabel Grig! Hellish pride! Hellish implacable rancour! Glutton of misery! The woman had not even offered a syllable of goodwill for the welfare of the coming baby! Nevertheless, Lilian’s heart was breaking for Isabel Grig. Who could blame Isabel? Or who Lilian? The situation inevitably arising from their characters and from the character of the dead man had overpowered both of them. Lilian thought of the neglected grave, and of the courtesan’s prayer, "Eternal peace! No emotions! Stretched straight out. Quiet for ever and ever! Eternal peace!" In the indulgence of grief and depression she wanted to keep that thought. But she could not. She was too young and too strong, and the edges of the dangerous future were iridescent. III The Lieutenant Lilian slept heavily and without moving, and when the parlourmaid aroused her with more tea at nine o’clock according to order, she drank half the first cup before the process of waking was complete. Her mind had been running jerkily: "So she actually went all that way to see his grave. And I haven’t seen the stone myself. Of course Felix wrote to her when he was getting better, and told her he was going to marry me. That’s how she must have first known I was out there with him. He wrote on purpose to tell her. And she went all that way to see my darling’s grave, and never said a word to me! It’s her feeling for Felix makes her so cruel, poor thing! Oh! But she’s so hard, _hard_! Well, I could never be hard like that--I don’t care what happened. And it won’t make her any happier." The parlourmaid returned with a parcel. "Oh yes, I know what that is," said Lilian. "Just cut the string and put it down here, will you?" "Miss Jackson is waiting to see you’m. Will you see her or shall I ask her to call to-night?" "Miss Jackson!" Lilian exclaimed, agitated by the swiftness of the sequence of events. "Has she been waiting long?" "No’m. Only about twenty minutes." "Why didn’t you tell me before?" "I thought you ought to have your tea quiet’m."