l
jolly together, self-satisfied. They had done well, and were relaxing
after the rush of the season; but they seemed very far away from Miss
Ethel as she looked out of the window.

Still she never thought of envying them their jollity and
self-satisfaction. Deep in her heart she knew she would rather be
herself with nothing, than such as they with everything. She had only
a vague sense of uneasiness, which was deepened by the sound of the
gramophone next door grinding out "Home, sweet Home." For her sake the
old man--who lived with his daughter during the winter when lodgers
were few--had sinned against the law which prohibited his use of the
new gramophone. This was partly because he really wanted to cheer Miss
Ethel, and partly because he realized his daughter's good fortune
better when he thought of the ladies listening to him through the wall.

But Miss Ethel's attention was soon distracted, for a baby wailed in
the house on the other side, and a fish cart went past ringing a loud
bell to warn the women to run out with their dishes. The bell was
harsh in tone, filling the street with clamour, and when the cart
started again after a purchase the bell pealed afresh each time. It
was some time before the desire of Emerald Avenue for the harvest of
the sea was satisfied, but in the comparative silence which at last
ensued, Miss Ethel pressed her hand to her forehead as she rose dizzily
from her knees. For a moment or two the house opposite looked blurred,
then the haziness passed off, and she saw the road lying empty in the
grey light--the lace-curtained windows, the sideboard with a mirror
back on the far side of the room, even the vase of faded flowers.

But despite the minute definiteness of it all, she had a most queer
feeling of unreality. She told herself that this would probably be her
home until she died, and that there was nothing to complain of--she
ought to be ashamed to complain. But the words which were forming on
the surface of her thoughts seemed to have no relation whatever to
anything going on underneath. She could not, or would not try to see
deep down, because that odd sense of unreality rather frightened her;
but something rose up like an emanation--a presentiment, she would have
called it, had she allowed herself to do so. But the whole idea of her
living here seemed so pervaded with bleak unreality, as she stood there
looking out of the window, that it seemed to be wiped out of the s