"She had that power--she enjoyed things. She wasn't
beautiful, but--I was thinking of her last night at the dance. She
got on with every kind of person, and then she made it all so
amazingly--funny."
It appeared that Helen was going back into the past, choosing her words
deliberately, comparing Theresa with the people she had known since
Theresa died.
"I don't know how she did it," she continued, and ceased, and there was
a long pause, in which a little owl called first here, then there, as it
moved from tree to tree in the garden.
"That's so like Aunt Lucy and Aunt Katie," said Rachel at last. "They
always make out that she was very sad and very good."
"Then why, for goodness' sake, did they do nothing but criticize her
when she was alive?" said Helen. Very gentle their voices sounded, as if
they fell through the waves of the sea.
"If I were to die to-morrow . . ." she began.
The broken sentences had an extraordinary beauty and detachment in
Hewet's ears, and a kind of mystery too, as though they were spoken by
people in their sleep.
"No, Rachel," Helen's voice continued, "I'm not going to walk in the
garden; it's damp--it's sure to be damp; besides, I see at least a dozen
toads."
"Toads? Those are stones, Helen. Come out. It's nicer out. The flowers
smell," Rachel replied.
Hewet drew still farther back. His heart was beating very quickly.
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