stood with
Ethel Maud Mary and Gwendolen on the doorstep in the spring sunshine,
smiling and waving her hand to him as he drove off. Her last words to
him were, "You will go home before we meet again. Give my love to
America--and may she send us many more such men," Beth added under her
breath.

"Amen!" Ethel Maud Mary and Gwendolen echoed.

When the cab was out of sight, Beth turned and went into the house,
walking wearily. At the foot of the stairs she looked up as if she
were calculating the distance; then she began the long ascent with the
help of the banisters, counting each step she took mechanically. The
attic seemed strangely big and bare when she entered it--it was as if
something had been taken away and left a great gap. There was
something crude and garish about the light in it, too, which gave an
unaccustomed look to every familiar detail. The first thing she
noticed was the chair beside the fire, the old grandfather chair in
which he had been sitting only a few minutes before, resting after the
effort of dressing--the chair in which she had seen him sit and suffer
so much and so bravely. She would never see him there again, nor hear
his voice--the kindest voice she had ever heard. At his worst, it was
always of her he thought, of her comfort, of her fatigue; but all that
was over now. He had gone, and there could be no return--nothing could
ever be as it had been between them, even if they met again; but meet
again they never would, Beth knew, and at the thought she sank on the
floor beside the senseless chair, and, resting her head against it,
broke down and cried the despairing cry of the desolate for whom there
is no comfort and no hope.

The fire she had lighted for Arthur to dress by had gone out; there
were no more coals. The remains of his breakfast stood on the table;
she had not touched anything herself as yet. But she felt neither cold
nor hunger; she was beyond all that. The chair was turned with its
back to the window, and as she cowered beside it, she faced the
opposite whitewashed wall. A ray of sunshine played upon it, wintry
sunshine still, crystal cold and clear. Beth began to watch it. There
was something she had to think about--something to see to--something
she must think about--something she ought to see to, but precisely
what it was she could not grasp. It seemed to be hovering on the
outskirts of her mind, but it always eluded her. However, she had
better not move for fear of maki