erself out.

What had come over her? Why had she let go the anchor of prayer?
And she had difficulty, too, in remembering her poor, in remembering
even that there were such things as poor. Holidays, of course, were
good, and were recognized by everybody as good, but ought they so
completely to blot out, to make such havoc of, the realities? Perhaps
it was healthy to forget her poor; with all the greater gusto would she
go back to them. But it couldn't be healthy to forget her prayers, and
still less could it be healthy not to mind.

Rose did not mind. She knew she did not mind. And, even worse,
she knew she did not mind not minding. In this place she was
indifferent to both the things that had filled her life and made it
seem as if it were happy for years. Well, if only she could rejoice in
her wonderful new surroundings, have that much at least to set against
the indifference, the letting go--but she could not. She had no work;
she did not pray; she was left empty.

Lotty had spoilt her day that day, as she had spoilt her day the
day before--Lotty, with her invitation to her husband, with her
suggestion that she too should invite hers. Having flung Frederick
into her mind again the day before, Lotty had left her; for the whole
afternoon she had left her alone with her thoughts. Since then they
had been all of Frederick. Where at Hampstead he came to her only in
her dreams, here he left her dreams free and was with her during the
day instead. And again that morning, as she was struggling not to
think of him, Lotty had asked her, just before disappearing singing
down the path, if she had written yet and invited him, and again he was
flung into her mind and she wasn't able to get him out.

How could she invite him? It had gone on so long, their
estrangement, such years; she would hardly know what words to use; and
besides, he would not come. Why should he come? He didn't care about
being with her. What could they talk about? Between them was the
barrier of his work and her religion. She could not--how could she,
believing as she did in purity, in responsibility for the effect of
one's actions on others--bear his work, bear living by it; and he she
knew, had at first resented and then been merely bored by her religion.
He had let her slip away; he had given her up; he no longer minded; he
accepted her religion indifferently, as a settled fact. Both it and
she--Rose's mind, becoming more luminous in