She was on the verge of retorting to him, but she restrained herself. He felt that she was about to say something which he could not answer, and that it was time for him to leave her alone. He went out. The room was still but for the swish of the brush that was making the white sink glow with cleanliness. In Mrs. Farley's knotted, unsteady fingers, the back of the scrubbing brush bumped on the sides of the porcelain bowl. A fly buzzed fiercely in the luminous dark against the windowpane, then was still, like a spring that had fiercely unwound. Mrs. Farley rested an instant. The brush slid from her fingers and clattered against a dish. She wiped her eyes with her apron. She was tired, but with weak patience, victoriously ungiving, she held out against life. THE END End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Narrow House, by Evelyn Scott