me out.

Bobby, gay and affectionate as ever, met them at the station and drove
with them to the town house. Morson opened the front door and ran down
the steps with a blank face and a brisk manner, as if she had been
returning from a week-end; but as she stepped out of the motor he
attempted a sentence.

"Glad to see you back, miss," he said, and then his self-control gave
way. He turned aside with one hand over his eyes and the other feeling
wildly in his tail pocket for a handkerchief.

Lydia began to cry too. She put her hand on Morson's shoulder and said,
"I'm so glad to see you, Morson. You're almost the oldest friend I have
in the world," and she added, without shame, to Miss Bennett, "Isn't it
awful the way I cry at anything nowadays?"

She went into the house, blowing her nose.

The house was full of telegrams and flowers. Lydia did not open the
telegrams, but the flowers seemed to give her pleasure. She went about
breathing in long whiffs of them and touching their petals. Morson, in
perfect control of himself, but with his eyes as red as fire, came to
ask at what hour she would dine.

Lydia had a great deal to do before dinner. She produced a dirty paper
from her pocketbook and began studying it.

"Is there anything special you'd like to order?" said Miss Bennett.

Lydia did not look up but answered that Morson remembered what she
liked, which drove him out of the room again. Her telephoning, it
appeared, was to the families and friends of her fellow prisoners. She
was very conscientious about it, and very patient, even with those who,
unaccustomed to the telephone or unwilling to lose touch with a voice so
recently come from their loved ones, would ask the same question over
and over again.

But finally it was over, and Lydia free to bathe and dress and finally
to sit down in her own dining room to a wonderful little meal that was
the symbol of her freedom. Yet all she could think of was the smell of
the freshly baked dinner rolls that brought back the large, low kitchen
and the revolving oven--revolving at that very moment, perhaps--so far
away.

"Oh, my dear," said Miss Bennett, "I've found the nicest little maid for
you--a Swiss girl who can sew--really make your things if you want her
to, and----"

Lydia felt embarrassed. She turned her head from side to side as Miss
Bennett ran on describing the discovery. She simply could never have a
maid again. How was she to explain? She did not unders