ago."

"Meaning that I was dead. I felt it."

"Yes, the house has a surer life than we, even if it was empty, and, as
it is, I can't get over that for thirty years the sun has never shone
full on our furniture. After all, Wickham Place was a grave. Meg, I've a
startling idea."

"What is it?"

"Drink some milk to steady you."

Margaret obeyed.

"No, I won't tell you yet," said Helen, "because you may laugh or be
angry. Let's go upstairs first and give the rooms an airing."

They opened window after window, till the inside, too, was rustling
to the spring. Curtains blew, picture frames tapped cheerfully. Helen
uttered cries of excitement as she found this bed obviously in its right
place, that in its wrong one. She was angry with Miss Avery for not
having moved the wardrobes up. "Then one would see really." She admired
the view. She was the Helen who had written the memorable letters four
years ago. As they leant out, looking westward, she said: "About my
idea. Couldn't you and I camp out in this house for the night?"

"I don't think we could well do that," said Margaret.

"Here are beds, tables, towels--"

"I know; but the house isn't supposed to be slept in, and Henry's
suggestion was--"

"I require no suggestions. I shall not alter anything in my plans. But
it would give me so much pleasure to have one night here with you. It
will be something to look back on. Oh, Meg lovey, do let's!"

"But, Helen, my pet," said Margaret, "we can't without getting Henry's
leave. Of course, he would give it, but you said yourself that you
couldn't visit at Ducie Street now, and this is equally intimate."

"Ducie Street is his house. This is ours. Our furniture, our sort of
people coming to the door. Do let us camp out, just one night, and Tom
shall feed us on eggs and milk. Why not? It's a moon."

Margaret hesitated. "I feel Charles wouldn't like it," she said at last.
"Even our furniture annoyed him, and I was going to clear it out when
Aunt Juley's illness prevented me. I sympathise with Charles. He feels
it's his mother's house. He loves it in rather an untaking way. Henry I
could answer for--not Charles."

"I know he won't like it," said Helen. "But I am going to pass out of
their lives. What difference will it make in the long run if they say,
'And she even spent the night at Howards End'?"

"How do you know you'll pass out of their lives? We have thought that
twice before."

"Because my plans--"

"--which