Being really happy or really miserable makes people like you and like being with you. They need not know the cause. Someone will speak now, in a moment.... Miriam tried to return to the falling rain, the soft light in it, the soft light on the greenery, the intense green glow everywhere ... misty green glow. But her eyes fell and her thoughts went on. They would have seen. Her face must be speaking of their niceness in coming out on the dull day so that she might drive about once more in Lord Lansdowne’s estate. Someone will speak. Perhaps they had not found forgetfulness in the green through the rain under the grey. Moments came suddenly in the lanes between the hedges, like that moment that always came where the lane ran up and turned and the fields spread out in the distance. But usually you could not forget the chaise and the donkey and the people. In here amongst the green something always came at once and stayed. Perhaps they did not find it so, or did not know they found it, because of their thoughts about the “fine estate.” They seemed quite easy driving in the lanes, as easy as they ever seemed when one could not forget them. What were they doing when one forgot them? They knew one liked some things better than others; or suddenly liked everything very much indeed ... she said you were apathetic ... what does that mean ... what did she mean ... with her one could see nothing and sat waiting ... I said I don’t think so, I don’t think she is apathetic at all. Then they understood when one sat in a heap.... They had been pleased this morning because of one’s misery at going away. They did not know of the wild happiness in the garden before breakfast nor that the garden had been so lovely because the strain of the visit was over, and London was coming. They did not know that the happiness of being in amongst the greenery to-day, pouring out one’s heart in farewell to the great trees had grown so intense because the feeling of London and freedom was there. They could not see the long rich winter, the lectures and books, out of which something was coming....

“It’s a pity the rain came.”

Ah no, that is not rain. It is not raining. What is ‘raining’? What do people think when they say these things?

“We are like daisies, drenched in dew.” She pursed up her face towards the sky.

They laughed and silence came again. Heavy and happy.

2

“I’m glad you came up. I want to ask you what is to be done about Hendie.”

Miriam looked about the boudoir. Mrs. Green had hardly looked at her. She was smiling at her fancy work. But if one did not say something soon she would speak again, going on into things from her point of view. Doctor and medicine. Eve liked it all. She liked Mrs. Green’s clever difficult fancy work and the boudoir smell of Turkish beans and the house and garden and the bazaars and village entertainments and the children’s endless expensive clothes and the excitements and troubles about that fat man. Down here she was in a curious flush of excitement all the time herself....

“I think she wants a rest.”

“I told her so. But resting seems to make her worse. We all thought she was worse after the holidays.”

Miriam’s eyes fell before the sudden glance of Mrs. Green’s blue green eye. She must have seen her private vision of life in the great rich house ... misery, death with no escape. But they had Eve. Eve did not know what was killing her. She liked being tied to people.

“She is very nervous.”

“Yes. I know it’s only nerves. I’ve told her that.”

“But you don’t know what nerves are. They’re not just nothing....”

“You’re not nervous.”

“Don’t you think so?”

“Not in the way Hendie is. You’re a solid little person.”

Miriam laughed and thought of Germany and Newlands and Banbury Park. But this house would be a thousand times worse. There was no one in it who knew anything about anything. That was why when she was not too bad Eve thought it was good for her to be there.

“I think she’s very happy here.”

“I’m glad you think that. But something must be done. She can’t go on with these perpetual headaches and sleeplessness and attacks of weepiness.”

“I think she wants a long rest.”

“What does she do with her holidays? Doesn’t she rest then?”

“Yes, but there are always worries” said Miriam desperately.

“You have had a good deal of worry—how is your father?”

How much do you know about that.... How does it strike you....

“He is all right, I think.”

“He lives with your eldest sister.”

“Yes.”

“That’s very nice for him. I expect the little grandson will be a great interest.”

“Yes.”

“And your youngest sister has a little girl?”

“Yes.”

“Do you like children?” “Yes.”

“I expect you spend a good deal of your time with your sisters.”

“Well—it’s a fearful distance.” Why didn’t you ask me all these things when I was staying with you. There’s no time now....

“Do you like living alone in London?”

“Well—I’m fearfully busy.”

“I expect you are. I think it’s wonderful. But you must be awfully lonely sometimes.”

Miriam fidgeted and wondered how to go.

“Well—come down and see us again. I’m glad I had this chance of talking to you about Hendie.”

“Perhaps she’ll be better in the winter. I think she’s really better in the cold weather.”

“Well—we’ll hope so,” said Mrs. Green getting up. “I can’t think what’s the matter with her. There’s nothing to worry her down here.”

“No” said Miriam emphatically in a worldly tone of departure. “Thank you so much for having me” she said feebly as they passed through the flower-scented hall the scent of the flowers hanging delicately within the stronger odour of the large wood-fire.

“I’m glad you came. We thought it would be nice for both of you.”

“Yes it was very kind of you. I’m sure she wants a complete rest.” Away from us away from you in some new place....

In the open light of the garden Mrs. Green’s eyes were almost invisible points. She ought to do her hair smaller. The fashionable bundle of little sausages did not suit a large head. The eyes looked more sunken and dead than Eve’s with her many headaches. But she was strong—a strong hard thunder-cloud at breakfast. Perhaps very unhappy. But wealthy. Strong, cruel wealth, eating up lives it did not understand. How did Eve manage to read Music and Morals and Olive Schreiner here?