er hand into the dark cavity and, grimacing, hauled up
the heavy weights. This forgetfulness of her mother's somehow increased
her extraordinary satisfaction with life. She remounted the shadowy
stairs on the wings of a pure and ingenuous elation.

CHAPTER X
MISS GAILEY IN DECLENSION

I

Knowing whom she was to meet, Hilda came home to tea, on the next day
but one, with a demeanour whose characteristics were heightened by
nervousness. The weather was still colder, and she had tied the broad
ribbons of her small bonnet rather closely under her chin, the double
bow a little to the left. A knitted bodice over the dress and under the
jacket made the latter tighter than usual, so that the fur edges of it
curved away somewhat between the buttons, and all the upper part of the
figure seemed to be too strictly confined, while the petticoats surged
out freely beneath. A muff, brightly coloured to match the skirt and the
bonnet and her cheeks, completed the costume. She went into the house
through the garden and delicately stamped her feet on the lobby tiles,
partly to warm them and shake off a few bits of snow, and partly to
announce clearly her arrival. Then, just as she was, hands in muff, she
entered the parlour. She was tingling with keen, rosy life, and with the
sense of youthful power. She had the deep, unconscious conviction of the
superiority of youth to age. And there were the two older women, waiting
for her, as it were on the defensive, and as nervous as she!

"Good afternoon, Miss Gailey," she said, with a kind and even very
cordial smile, and heartily shook the flaccid, rheumatic hand that was
primly held out to her. And yet in spite of herself, perhaps unknown to
herself, there was in her tone and her smile and her vigorous clasp
something which meant, "Poor old thing!" pityingly, indulgently,
scornfully.

She had not spoken to Miss Gailey, and she had scarcely seen her, since
the days of the dancing-class. A woman who is in process of losing
everything but her pride can disappear from view as easily in a small
town as in a great city; her acquaintances will say to each other, "I
haven't met So-and-so lately. I wonder..." And curiosity will go no
further. And in a short time her invisibility will cease to excite any
remark, except, "She keeps herself to herself nowadays." To Hilda Miss
Gailey appeared no older; her brown hair had very little grey in it, and
her skin was fairly smooth and well-preserve