“I believe,” she had thought when it was at last over—­it took a long while—­“that anybody would quarrel about anything when they’ve not left off being together for a single day for two whole years.  What we both need is a holiday.”

“My husband,” went on Mrs. Wilkins to Mrs. Arbuthnot, trying to throw some light on herself, “is a solicitor.  He—­” She cast about for something she could say elucidatory of Mellersh, and found:  “He’s very handsome.”

“Well,” said Mrs. Arbuthnot kindly, “that must be a great pleasure to you.”

“Why?” asked Mrs. Wilkins.

“Because,” said Mrs. Arbuthnot, a little taken aback, for constant intercourse with the poor had accustomed her to have her pronouncements accepted without question, “because beauty—­handsomeness—­ is a gift like any other, and if it is properly used—­”

She trailed off into silence.  Mrs. Wilkins’s great grey eyes were fixed on her, and it seemed suddenly to Mrs. Arbuthnot that perhaps she was becoming crystallized into a habit of exposition, and of exposition after the manner of nursemaids, through having an audience that couldn’t but agree, that would be afraid, if it wished, to interrupt, that didn’t know, that was, in fact, at her mercy.

But Mrs. Wilkins was not listening; for just then, absurd as it seemed, a picture had flashed across her brain, and there were two figures in it sitting together under a great trailing wisteria that stretched across the branches of a tree she didn’t know, and it was herself and Mrs. Arbuthnot—­she saw them—­she saw them.  And behind them, bright in sunshine, were old grey walls—­the mediaeval castle —­she saw it—­they were there . . .

She therefore stared at Mrs. Arbuthnot and did not hear a word she said.  And Mrs. Arbuthnot stared too at Mrs. Wilkins, arrested by the expression on her face, which was swept by the excitement of what she saw, and was as luminous and tremulous under it as water in sunlight when it is ruffled by a gust of wind.  At this moment, if she had been at a party, Mrs. Wilkins would have been looked at with interest.

They stared at each other; Mrs. Arbuthnot surprised, inquiringly, Mrs. Wilkins with the eyes of some one who has had a revelation.  Of course.  That was how it could be done.  She herself, she by herself, couldn’t afford it, and wouldn’t be able, even if she could afford it, to go there all alone; but she and Mrs. Arbuthnot together . . .

She leaned across the table, “Why don’t we try and get it?” she whispered.

Mrs. Arbuthnot became even more wide-eyed.  “Get it?” she repeated.