words Mrs. Wilkins had other words, incoherent and yet, for the moment
at least, till one had had more time, difficult to answer--the exact
right words were a suggestion that it would do no harm to answer the
advertisement. Non-committal. Mere inquire. And what disturbed Mrs.
Arbuthnot about this suggestion was that she did not make it solely to
comfort Mrs. Wilkins; she made it because of her own strange longing
for the mediaeval castle.

This was very disturbing. There she was, accustomed to direct,
to lead, to advise, to support--except Frederick; she long since had
learned to leave Frederick to God--being led herself, being influenced
and thrown off her feet, by just an advertisement, by just an
incoherent stranger. It was indeed disturbing. She failed to
understand her sudden longing for what was, after all, self-indulgence,
when for years no such desire had entered her heart.

"There's no harm in simply asking," she said in a low voice, as
if the vicar and the Savings Bank and all her waiting and dependent
poor were listening and condemning.

"It isn't as if it committed us to anything," said Mrs. Wilkins,
also in a low voice, but her voice shook.

They got up simultaneously--Mrs. Arbuthnot had a sensation of surprise
that Mrs. Wilkins should be so tall--and went to a writing-table, and
Mrs. Arbuthnot wrote to Z, Box 1000, The Times, for particulars. She
asked for all particulars, but the only one they really wanted was the
one about the rent. They both felt that it was Mrs. Arbuthnot who
ought to write the letter and do the business part. Not only was she
used to organizing and being practical, but she also was older, and