She might have cried to the sky, the trees, the little pools of dead and sodden leaves “What is it? What is it? Do you hear anything?” A scent of rotting leaves and damp mist, brought by the little wind, invaded her. The pale sun struck through the moist air and smiled down, a globe of gold, upon her. There came to her that moment of revelation that tells human beings that, fine as they may think themselves, full of courage and independent of all men, Life, if it exert but the softest pressure, may be too strong for them—the armies of God, with their certain purpose, are revealed for a brief instant entrenched amongst the clouds. “If we crush you what matters it to Us?” She hurried on her way, longing for the sound of friendly voices, and, when she found Rachel Seddon with her son in the nursery, the fire, the warm colours, the absurd rocking-horse, armies of glittering soldiers encamped upon the red carpet, the buzz of a sewing-machine in the next room, above all, Michael Seddon’s golden head and Rachel’s dark one, she could have cried aloud her relief. Rachel, tall and slender, dark eyes and hair from a Russian mother, restless, impetuous, flinging her hands out in some gesture, catching her boy, suddenly, and kissing him, breaking off in the heart of one sentence to begin another, was a strange contrast to Katherine’s repose. Soon Katherine was on the floor and Michael, who loved her, had his arms about her neck. “That’s how she ought always to be,” thought Rachel, looking down at her. “How could anyone ever say that she was plain! Roddy thinks her so.... He should see her now.” Katherine looked up. “Rachel,” she said, “I was frightened just now in the Park. I don’t know why—I almost ran here. I’m desperately ashamed of myself.” “You—frightened?” “Yes, I thought someone was coming out from behind a tree to slip a bag over my head, I—Oh! I don’t know what I thought....” Then she would say no more. She played with Michael and tried to tell him a story. Here she was, as she had often been before, unsuccessful. She was too serious over the business, would not risk improbabilities and wanted to emphasise the moral. She was not sufficiently absurd ... gravely her eyes sought for a decent ending. She looked up and found that Michael had left her and was moving his soldiers. The sun, slanting in, struck lines of silver and gold from their armour across the floor. As she got up and stood there, patting herself to see whether she were tidy, her laughing eyes caught Rachel. “There! You see! I’m no good at _that_!—no imagination—father’s always said so.” “Katie,” Rachel said, catching her soft, warm, almost chubby hand, “there’s nothing the matter, is there?” “The matter! No! what should there be?” “It’s so odd for you to say what you did just now. And I think—I don’t know—you’re different to-day.” “No, I’m not.” Katherine looked at her. “It was the damp Park, all the bare trees and nobody about.”