rdens and moonlight, more agreeable to be in
there than out-of-doors if he could have brought Lady Caroline safely
in with him. As it was, he went in with extreme reluctance.

Mrs. Fisher, her hands folded on her lap, was doing nothing,
merely gazing fixedly into the fire. The lamp was arranged
conveniently for reading, but she was not reading. Her great dead
friends did not seem worth reading that night. They always said the
same things now--over and over again they said the same things, and
nothing new was to be got out of them any more for ever. No doubt they
were greater than any one was now, but they had this immense
disadvantage, that they were dead. Nothing further was to be expected
of them; while of the living, what might one not still expect? She
craved for the living, the developing--the crystallized and finished
wearied her. She was thinking that if only she had had a son--a son
like Mr. Briggs, a dear boy like that, going on, unfolding, alive,
affectionate, taking care of her and loving her. . .

The look on her face gave Mrs. Wilkins's heart a little twist
when she saw it. "Poor old dear," she thought, all the loneliness of
age flashing upon her, the loneliness of having outstayed one's welcome
in the world, of being in it only on sufferance, the complete
loneliness of the old childless woman who has failed to make friends.
It did seem that people could only be really happy in pairs--any sorts
of pairs, not in the least necessarily lovers, but pairs of friends,
pairs of mothers and children, of brothers and sisters--and where was
the other half of Mrs. Fisher's pair going to be found?

Mrs. Wilkins thought she had perhaps better kiss her again. The
kissing this afternoon had been a great success; she knew it, she had
instantly felt Mrs. Fisher's reaction to it. So she crossed over and
bent down and kissed her and said cheerfully, "We've come in--" which
indeed was evident.

This time Mrs. Fisher actually put up her hand and held Mrs.
Wilkins's cheek against her own--this living thing, full of affection,
of warm, racing blood; and as she did this she felt safe with the
strange creature, sure that she who herself did unusual things so
naturally would take the action quite as a matter of course, and not
embarrass her by being surprised.

Mrs. Wilkins was not at all surprised; she was delighted. "I
believe I'm the other half of her pair," flashed into her mind. "I
believe it's me, positively