"Not to me! The time has flown." She laughed at her recollections. "And, anyhow, it's only a few months, and you have changed." "I expect it is my clothes," Helen said calmly. "They must look queer to you." "They do. But nice. I've brought some new ones for you. I think you'll soon be prettier than I am. Think of that!" They had each other by the hand and looked admiringly in each other's face, remembering small peculiarities they had half forgotten: there was the soft hair on Helen's temples, trying, as Zebedee said, to curl; there was the little tilt to Miriam's eyebrows, giving her that look of some one not quite human, more readily moved to mischief than to kindness, and never to be held at fault. "Yes, it's centuries," Helen said. "It's only a day!" "Then you have been happy," Helen said, letting out a light sigh of content. "Yes, but I'm glad to be here again, so long as I needn't stay. I've heaps to tell you." She stretched herself, like a cat. "I knew there was fun in the world. I had faith, my dear, and I found it." Helen was looking at her with her usual confusion of feelings: she wanted to shake off Miriam's complacence roughly, while she was fondly glad that she should have it, but this remark would not pass without a word, and Helen shook her head. "No; you didn't find it. Uncle Alfred gave it to you--he and I." "You? Oh--yes, I suppose you did. Well--thank you very much, and don't let us talk about it any more. You're like a drag-net, bringing up the unpleasant. Don't let us quarrel." "Quarrel! I couldn't," Helen said simply. "Are you so pleased to see me?" Helen's reluctant smile expanded. "I suppose it's that." "Aha! It's lovely to be me! People go down like ninepins! Why?" Piously, she appealed to Heaven. "Why?" "They get up again, though," Helen said with a chuckle. "For instance?" Miriam demanded truculently. "Oh, I'm not going to be hard on you," Helen said, and though she spoke with genuine amusement, she felt a little seed of anger germinating in her breast. That was what George had done to her: he had made her heart a fertile place for passions which her mind disdained. "And I'm so glad to have you here," she added, defying harsh emotions. "Ah! You're rather nice--and, yes, you are much prettier. How have you done it? I should like to kiss you." "Well, you may." She put her face close to Miriam's, and enjoyed the coolness of that sisterly salute. "But," Miriam said, startled by a thought, "need I kiss--her?" "No. You won't want to do that. She isn't very nice to look at." Miriam shrank against the wall. "Not ugly?" "You must come and see," Helen said. She was shaken again by a moment's anger as she looked on Miriam's lovely elegance and remembered the price that had been paid for it. "You must come and see her," she repeated. "Do you think you are the only one who hates deformity?" "Deformity?" Miriam whispered. "Her face is twisted. Oh--I see it every day!"