ng, was lit by a single silver vase-lamp under an orange
shade and by a fire of thin logs, for the April evening was damp
with a hesitant rain. On the table, near the lamp, was a silver vase
with three yellow tulips in it, and Cecil, wandering about, came
upon a double photograph frame, back of the vase, that made her gasp.
She picked it up and stared at it. Between the alligator edgings,
facing each other obliquely, but with the greatest amity, were
Mr. Thomas Denby in the fashion of ten years before, very handsome,
very well-groomed, with the startled expression which any definite
withdrawal from his potational pursuits was likely to produce upon
his countenance, and her uncle-in-law, Mr. Henry McCain, also in the
fashion of ten years back. She was holding the photographs up to the
light, her lips still apart, when she heard a sound behind her, and,
putting the frame back guiltily, turned about. Mrs. Denby was
advancing toward her. She seemed entirely unaware of Cecil's
malfeasance; she was smiling faintly; her hand was cordial, grateful.

"You are very good," she murmured. "Sit here by the fire. We will
have some tea directly."

Cecil could not but admit that she was very lovely; particularly
lovely in the black of her mourning, with her slim neck, rising up
from its string of pearls, to a head small and like a delicate
white-and-gold flower. An extraordinarily well-bred woman, a sort of
misty Du Maurier woman, of a type that had become almost non-existent,
if ever it had existed in its perfection at all. And, curiously
enough, a woman whose beauty seemed to have been sharpened by many
fine-drawn renunciations. Now she looked at her hands as if expecting
Cecil to say something.

"I think such calls as this are always very useless, but then--"

"Exactly--but then! They mean more than anything else in the world,
don't they? When one reaches fifty-five one is not always used to
kindness.... You are very kind...." She raised her eyes.

Cecil experienced a sudden impulsive warmth. "After all, what did
she or any one else know about other peoples' lives? Poor souls!
What a base thing life often was!"

"I want you to understand that we are always so glad, both Adrian
and myself.... Any time we can help in any way, you know--"

"Yes, I think you would. You--I have watched you both. You don't mind,
do you? I think you're both rather great people--at least, my idea
of greatness."

Cecil's eyes shone just a little; th