Passing the gates, on the stone columns of which the quaint, old-fashioned lamps of former days were still nightly lighted, I glanced through them at the snow-covered lawn and the square-built, lonely house, occupied now only by Selwyn and his younger brother Harrie, then again hurried on.  The Avenue with its great width and unbroken length, its crystal-coated trees and handsome houses, was now deserted save for hurrying limousines and an occasional pedestrian; and safe in the fierceness of the snow, from encounter with old friends, I decided to walk home through the section of the city which was the only part I once knew well, and just as I decided I knocked into some one turning a corner as I approached it.

“Oh, Miss Heath!” The woman drew back.  “The snow was so thick I didn’t see you.  Did I hurt you?”

“Not a bit.”  I wiped my face, damp with melted flakes which had brushed it.  “What are you doing up here?  You look as frozen as I feel.  Have you got on overshoes?”

The woman shook her head.  “I haven’t got any.  I wouldn’t have come out, but I had to bring some work back to Mrs. Le Moyne.  If she’d paid me I’d have bought a pair of rubbers.  But she didn’t pay me.  She said she’d let me have the money next week.”

“Next week!  You need it this minute.  How much does she owe you?”

“Four seventy-five for these last things, and four twenty-five for those I made last week.  I don’t know what I’m going to do.”  The woman’s hands, cold and stiff, twisted nervously.  “I don’t reckon she’s ever had to think about rent, or food, or fuel, or overshoes.  People like that don’t have to.  I wish they did, sometimes.”

“So do I. Come on; it’s too cold to stop.  We’ll go down to Benson’s and get something hot to warm us up.  I forgot about lunch.  Turn your coat-collar up—­the snow is getting down your neck—­and take my muff.  I’ve got pockets and you haven’t.”

As we started off a large limousine with violets in the glass vases of its interior, upholstered in fawn-colored cloth, stopped just ahead of us, and a woman I did not know got out of it, followed by one I knew well.  Fur coats entirely covered their dresses, and quickly the chauffeur opened an umbrella to protect their hats.  As we passed I started to speak to Alice Herbert, but, turning her head, she gave me not even a blink of recognition.  At first I did not understand; then I laughed.

“Who is that?” Mrs. Beck’s voice was awed.  “Ain’t they grand?  Do you know them?”

“No.”  I put my hands in the pockets of my long coat.  “I used to know one of them, the feeble-minded one.  We’d better go over to High Street and take a car to Benson’s.  The storm’s getting worse.  We’ll have to hurry.”

The street lamps were being lighted as we reached Scarborough Square, and at sight of the house, in the doorway of which Mrs. Mundy was standing, I hurried, impelled by impulse beyond defining.  Mrs. Beck had left me at the corner, and as Mrs. Mundy closed the door behind me she followed me up the steps.