watch her. She was smiling a long way off, intensely aware of him.

"Is _that_ Anne?" she said.

"Yes, Auntie, _really_ Anne."

"Well, you _are_ a big girl, aren't you?"

She kissed her three times and smiled, looking away again over her
flower-beds. That was the difference between Aunt Adeline and Uncle
Robert. His eyes made you important; they held you all the time he
talked to you; when he smiled, it was for you altogether and not for
himself at all. Her eyes never looked at you long; her smile wandered,
it was half for you and half for herself, for something she was thinking
of that wasn't you.

"What have you done with your father?" she said.

"I was to tell you. Daddy's ever so sorry; but he can't come till
to-morrow. A horrid man kept him on business."

"Oh?" A little crisping wave went over Aunt Adeline's face, a wave of
vexation. Anne saw it.

"He is _really_ sorry. You should have heard him damning and cursing."

They laughed. Adeline was appeased. She took her husband's arm and drew
him to herself. Something warm and secret seemed to pass between them.

Anne said to herself: "That's how people look--" without finishing her