an education. Afterwards, while they were alone, Lady Charlton, in
broken sentences, sketched the future. She supposed Rose would stay on
although the house was too big. Much good might be done in it. There
could be no doubt as to how money must be spent this winter; and there
were the services they both loved in the Church of the Fathers of St.
Paul near at hand. Lady Charlton saw life in pictures and so did Rose.
Neither of them broke through any reserve; neither of them was curious.
It did not occur to Rose to wonder how her mother had lived and felt in
her first days as a widow. Lady Charlton did not wonder how Rose felt
now. Rose, she thought, was wonderful; life was full of mercies; there
was so much to be thankful for; and could not those who had suffered be
of great consolation to others in sorrow?

They arranged to meet at Evensong in St. Paul's Chapel, and then Lady
Charlton would come back and stay the night. On the next day she was due
at the house of her youngest married daughter.

Rose was presently left alone, and she cried quite simply. For a moment
she thought of Edmund Grosse and the sadness in his eyes. Why had he not
volunteered for the war? What a contrast!

A large photograph of Sir David in his general's uniform stood on the
writing-table in the study downstairs. There were also a picture and a
miniature in the drawing-room, but Rose thought she would like to look
at the photograph again. It was the last that had been taken. Then too
she would look over some of his things. She wanted little presents for
his special friends; nothing for its own value, but because the hero had
used them. And she would like to bring the big photograph upstairs.

The study, usually cold and deserted since the master had gone away,