She obeyed, and crept into his arms. Only this time her grasp was
the stronger. Her heart beat louder and louder as the sound of
his grew more faint. He was crying like a little frightened
child, and her lips were wet with his tears. "Bear it bravely,"
she told him.

"I can't," he whispered. "It isn't to be done. I can't see you,"
and passed from her trembling with open eyes.

She rode home on her bicycle, leaving the others to follow. Some
ladies who did not know what had happened bowed and smiled as she
passed, and she returned their salute.

"Oh, miss, is it true?" cried the cook, her face streaming with
tears.

Agnes nodded. Presumably it was true. Letters had just arrived:
one was for Gerald from his mother. Life, which had given them no
warning, seemed to make no comment now. The incident was outside
nature, and would surely pass away like a dream. She felt
slightly irritable, and the grief of the servants annoyed her.

They sobbed. "Ah, look at his marks! Ah, little he thought--
little he thought!" In the brown holland strip by the front door
a heavy football boot had left its impress. They had not liked
Gerald, but he was a man, they were women, he had died. Their
mistress ordered them to leave her.

For many minutes she sat at the foot of the stairs, rubbing her