“Yes?” “You remember once, how we talked—at a gate on the Downs? We talked about how a girl might get an independent living. "Hist!" exclaimed Jack. ‘You don’t know him. ‘Who have lately joined us,’ she said, adding sotto voce, ‘A very great tragedy. Far away there was the one woman for this boy of mine—some human being who would understand the dear fool better than all the rest of the world. We were only—les autres. She calls us her guests, but in reality we are her prisoners. Jack fell on his knees beside her. ” “Ay,” he repeated, looking away from her. He opened the drawer of the writing table. "Your hesitation convinces me he does," replied the widow.
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