There would be no more silent sunny mornings with all the day ahead and nothing to do and no end anywhere to anything; no more sitting at the open window in the dining-room, reading Lecky and Darwin and bound "Contemporary Reviews" with roses waiting in the garden to be worn in the afternoon, and Eve and Harriett somewhere about, washing blouses or copying waltzes from the library packet ... no more Harriett looking in at the end of the morning, rushing her off to the new grand piano to play the "Mikado" and the "Holy Family" duets. The tennis-club would go on, but she would not be there. It would begin in May. Again there would be a white twinkling figure coming quickly along the pathway between the rows of holly-hocks every Saturday afternoon. Why had he come to tea every Sunday--never missing a single Sunday--all the winter? Why did he say, "Play 'Abide with me,'" "Play 'Abide with me'" yesterday, if he didn't care? What was the good of being so quiet and saying nothing? Why didn't he say "Don't go" or "When are you coming back?" Eve said he looked perfectly miserable. There was nothing to look forward to now but governessing and old age. Perhaps Miss Gilkes was right.... Get rid of men and muddles and have things just ordinary and be happy. "Make up your mind to be happy. You can be _perfectly_ happy without anyone to think about...." Wearing that large cameo brooch--long, white, flat-fingered hands and that quiet little laugh.... The piano-organ had reached its last tune. In the midst of the final flourish of notes the door flew open. Miriam got quickly to her feet and felt for matches. 2 Harriett came in waggling a thin brown paper parcel. "Did you hear the Intermezzo? What a dim religious! We got your old collars." Miriam took the parcel and subsided on to the hearthrug, looking with a new curiosity at Harriett's little, round, firelit face, smiling tightly between the rim of her hard felt hat and the bright silk bow beneath her chin. A footstep sounded on the landing and there was a gentle tap on the open door. "Oh, come in, Eve--bring some matches. Are the collars piquet, Harry?" "No, they hadn't got piquet, but they're the plain shape you like. You may thank us they didn't send you things with little rujabiba frills." Eve came slenderly down the room and Miriam saw with relief that her outdoor things were off. As the gas flared up she drew comfort from her scarlet serge dress, and the soft crimson cheek and white brow of the profile raised towards the flaring jet. "What are things like downstairs?" she said, staring into the fire. "I don't know," said Eve. She sighed thoughtfully and sank into a carpet chair under the gas bracket. Miriam glanced at her troubled eyes. "Pater's only just come in. I think things are pretty rotten," declared Harriett from the hearthrug.