And sure enough, soon after Connie's engagement to young Mr. Pennefather,
they ceased.

And the three friends, Connie and Sarah and Lizzie, came and went. She
loved them; and yet when they were there they broke something, something
secret and precious between her and her father and mother, and when they
were gone she felt the stir, the happy movement of coming together again,
drawing in close, close, after the break.

"We only want each other." Nobody else really mattered, not even Priscilla
Heaven.

Year after year the same. Her mother parted her hair into two sleek wings;
she wore a rosette and lappets of black velvet and lace on a glistening
beetle-backed chignon. And Harriett felt again her shock of resentment.
She hated to think of her mother subject to change and time.

And Priscilla came year after year, still loving, still protesting that
she would never marry. Yet they were glad when even Priscilla had gone and
left them to each other. Only each other, year after year the same.



V


Priscilla's last visit was followed by another passionate vow that she
would never marry. Then within three weeks she wrote again, telling of her
engagement to Robin Lethbridge.