last. She was plainly dressed in black, had left off all her jewels, and all the restless, nervous animation of her former manner had gone, with the glitter of the diamonds of which she had been so fond.
Teresa watched her curiously, while they chatted about Alice Blackley and various people they knew in common. She was surprised to find that the sight of Isabel moved her so little. She thought of the emotions Isabel had cost her, almost with a smile. All that seemed far away—since then she had travelled far. She could look at the other woman quite calmly, and realise impersonally her interest. Isabel was a person, one could not deny that—and much more a person now than she had been a year before. Some experience that meant a good deal to her had intervened. Teresa found herself wondering what it was. She felt she might risk a question or two. Whatever Isabel might have been once, she now plainly had herself well in hand. She could carry off a rather difficult situation, like the present, without a fault of taste. There was no danger of any scene. They understood one another. Isabel was honest—she had made no attempt to put things on a false basis. Things, as they stood, were tacitly taken for granted, that was all. And, as they talked about indifferent matters, simply, without constraint, they were approaching one another: not sentimentally or
