woman came over her. She clung round her again, and kissed her poor quivering lips and eyelids, and laid her young cheek against the pale and haggard one. Words could not be quick or strong enough to utter her yearning. As Mrs Transome felt that soft clinging, she said,
"God has some pity on me."
"Rest on my bed," said Esther. "You are so tired. I will cover you up warmly, and then you will sleep."
"No—tell me, dear—tell me what Harold said."
"That he has had some new trouble."
"He said nothing hard about me?"
"No—nothing. He did not mention you."
"I have been an unhappy woman, dear."
"I feared it," said Esther, pressing her gently.
"Men are selfish. They are selfish and cruel. What they care for is their own pleasure and their own pride."
"Not all," said Esther, on whom these words fell with a painful jar.
"All I have ever loved," said Mrs Transome. She paused a moment or two, and then said, "For more than twenty years I have not had an hour's happiness. Harold knows it, and yet he is hard to me."
