She admitted her responsibility, it would always be present to her, for she had that kind of conscientiousness, and having once helped him, she must always hold herself ready to do it again. The chain binding them was not altogether broken, but she no longer felt its weight. She had a lightness of spirit unknown for years; the anger, the jealous rage and the disgust had vanished with a completeness which made her doubt their short existence, and she began to make plans for a new life. There was no reason now why she should not wander all over the world, yet, on the very doorstep of Nelson Lodge, she found a reason in the person of Henrietta—flushed and gay and just returned from a tea party. She had enjoyed herself immensely, but her head ached a little. It had been all she could do to understand the brilliant conversation. There had been present a budding poet and a woman painter and she had never heard people talk like that before. “I didn’t speak at all, except to Charles,” she said. “Oh, Charles was there?” “Yes. I thought it safer not to talk but I looked as bright as I could, and of course I asked for cakes and things. They all ate a lot. I was glad of that. But most of them still looked hungry at the end. And Charles has taken tickets for me for the concerts, next to him, in a special corner where you can sometimes hear the music through the whispering of the audience. That’s what he says!” “But, Henrietta, I have taken tickets for you too.” “Thank you, but perhaps they will take them back.” “Henrietta, you really can’t sit in a corner with Charles when I’m in another part of the hall.” “Can’t I? Well, Charles will be very angry, but he’ll have to put up with it. If you explained to him, Aunt Rose, he’d understand. And I’d really rather sit with you. I shall be able to look at people and if I crackle my programme you won’t glare. Of course, I shall try not to. Will you explain to him? And I did promise to go to a concert with him some day.” “Then you must. I’ll tell him that, too. Are you afraid of him, Henrietta?” “He shouts,” Henrietta said, “and I’m sorry for him. And I do like him very much. I feel inclined to do things just to please him.” “Don’t let that carry you too far.” “That’s what I’m afraid of. Not him, exactly, but me.” “I didn’t suspect you of such tenderness. I shall have to look after you.” “I wish you would.” “And if you are feeling very kind some day, perhaps you will go and see Christabel Sales. She has promised to behave herself.” Henrietta’s expression tightened. “I don’t want to go. It’s a dreadful place.” “I know,” Rose said, and she added encouragingly, “but the cat has gone.”