h the east wind had broken up, but
could not drive away, and with only now and again a passer-by moving
across the dim vista, masked beneath an umbrella, or bent forward with
chin buried in turned-up collar. In the doorway outside the sulky boy
stamped his feet and slapped his sides with his arms in pantomimic
mutiny against the task of guarding the book-stalls' dripping covers,
which nobody would be mad enough to pause over, much less to lift.

"I don't know but I'd ought to let the boy bring in the books and go
home," she said, as their vague gaze was attracted by his gestures. "But
it isn't three yet--it seems ridiculous to close up. Still, if you'd be
more comfortable upstairs--"

"Why, mamma! The idea of making strangers of us," protested Julia.
She strove to make her tone cheerful, but its effect of rebuke was
unmistakable.

The mother, leaning against the tall desk, looked blankly at her
daughter. The pallid flicker of the gas-jet overhead made her long,
listless face seem more devoid of colour than ever.

"But you are as good as strangers, aren't you?" she observed, coldly.
"You've been back in town ten days and more, and I've scarcely laid eyes
upon either of you. But don't you want to sit down? You can put those
parcels on the floor anywhere. Or shall I do it for you?"

Alfred had been lounging in the shadowed corner against a heap of old
magazines tied in bundles. He sprang up now and cleared the chair, but
his sister declined it with a gesture. Her small figure had straightened
itself into a kind of haughty rigidity.

"There has been so much to do, mamma," she explained, in a clear, cool
voice. "We have had hundreds of things to buy and to arrange about. All
the responsibility for the housekeeping rests upon me--and Alfred
has his studio to do. But of course we should have looked in upon you
sooner--and much oftener--if we had thought you wanted us. But really,
when we came to you, the very day after our return, it was impossible
for us to pretend that you were glad to see us."

"Oh, I was glad enough," Mrs. Dabney made answer, mechanically. "Why
shouldn't I be glad? And why should you think I wasn't glad? Did you
expect me to shout and dance?"

"But you said you wouldn't come to see us in Ovington Square," Alfred
reminded her.

"That's different," she declared. "What would I be doing in Ovington
Square? It's all right for you to be there. I hope you'll be happy
there. But it wouldn't add anything