ose the way she should go? So gentle he was, yet he
always wanted to! And why did he always make her feel that she must go
the other way? The sunlight ceased to stream in, the old lady's shadow
faded off the wall, but the needles still sang their little tune. And
the girl said:

"Do you enjoy knitting, Mrs. Adam?"

The old lady looked at her above the spectacles.

"Enjoy, my dear? It passes the time."

"But do you want the time to pass?"

There was no answer for a moment, and Noel thought: 'How dreadful of me
to have said that!'

"Eh?" said the old lady.

"I said: Isn't it very tiring?"

"Not when I don't think about it, my dear."

"What do you think about?"

The old lady cackled gently.

"Oh--well!" she said.

And Noel thought: 'It must be dreadful to grow old, and pass the time!'

She took up her father's letter, and bent it meditatively against her
chin. He wanted her to pass the time--not to live, not to enjoy! To pass
the time. What else had he been doing himself, all these years, ever
since she could remember, ever since her mother died, but just passing
the time? Passing the time because he did not believe in this life; not
living at all, just preparing for the life he did believe in. Denying
himself everything that was exciting and nice, so that when he died he
might pass pure and saintly to his other world. He could not believe
Captain Fort a good man, because he had not passed the time, and
resisted Leila; and Leila was gone! And now it was a sin for him to love
someone else; he must pass the time again. 'Daddy doesn't believe in
life,' she thought; 'it's monsieur's picture. Daddy's a saint; but I
don't want to be a saint, and pass the time. He doesn't mind making
people unhappy, because the more they're repressed, the saintlier
they'll be. But I can't bear to be unhappy, or to see others unhappy. I
wonder if I could bear to be unhappy to save someone else--as Leila is?
I admire her! Oh! I admire her! She's not doing it because she thinks it
good for her soul; only because she can't bear making him unhappy. She
must love him very much. Poor Leila! And she's done it all by herself,
of her own accord.' It was like what George said of the soldiers; they
didn't know why they were heroes, it was not because they'd been told to
be, or because they believed in a future life. They just had to be, from
inside somewhere, to save others. 'And they love life as much as I
do,' she thought. 'What a beast it