on; she
spoke it almost in a whisper.

Miss Abercrombie paused in her act of unlatching the gate, for they had
arrived at the cottage by now, to look up at her. "Ah, there you open
wider fields," she assented, "only childless people are and must be the
exceptions. One cannot lay down laws for the exceptions."

Mrs. Starkey, the invalid old lady, was garrulous, and delighted to see
them. So anxious to tell them all her ailments and scraps of gossip that
by the time they got away it was quite late and already the sun was
sinking behind the range of hills at the back of the village.

"We will have to hurry," Joan said. "Aunt Janet gets so fussed if one is
out after dark."

Hurrying precluded any reopening of the subject they had been
discussing, but Joan's mind was busy with all the thoughts it had roused
as they walked. The faint hint of fear that had stirred to life in her
when Miss Abercrombie had spoken of Bridget was fast waking to very
definite panic. She could feel it tugging at her heart and making her
breathing fast and difficult. Supposing that the vaguely-dreamed-of
possibility had crystallized into fact in her case? How would Aunt Janet
think of it; what changes would it bring into her life?

As they turned into the little village street they came straight into a
crowd of people standing round an open cottage door. The crowd was
strangely quiet, talking amongst themselves in whispers, but from within
the cottage came the sound of wailing, the hysterical crying of old age.

Miss Abercrombie, with Joan following, pushed her way to the front, and
with awed faces the villagers drew back to let them pass. At the open
door Sam Jones, the village constable, an old man who had known Joan in
her very young days, put out his hand.

"Don't you go in now, miss," he said, "it is not for the likes of you to
see, and you can do no good. Besides which, your aunt is there already."

But Joan paid no attention to him and, pushing past his outstretched
hand, followed Miss Abercrombie.

The inside of the cottage was dimly lit, and scattered with a profuse
collection of what appeared to be kitchen utensils, dishes and clothes,
all flung about in confusion. The only light in the place glinted on the
long deal table and the stiff dead figure stretched out on it, still and
quiet, with white, vacant face and lifeless arms that hung down on
either side. Water was oozing out of the clothes and dripping from the
unbound hair; it