Activity in the hall intensified. There was the cottage she had inhabited for so many years,—in those fields she had rambled,—at that church she had prayed. "I can't help thinking of it, Sir," answered the widow. Amidship there was also canvas, and like that over the wheel, drab and dirty. It seemed at first the most beautiful afternoon of all time to her, and perhaps the thrill of her excitement did add a distinctive and culminating keenness to the day. If I had known that you were here you should not have been kept waiting for a second. I told her it was the end. Either you have had to love people or hate them—which is a sort of love, too, in its way—to get anything out of them.
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