“No. Never mind about it now.”

Miss Garstone took no notice. She went on in that whispery voice which was like the trees sounding in a little wind, or something that you heard in a dream. She said,

“About the letter-it was in that little chest of drawers. It’s there still -I put it back-I didn’t want to read it. But you’re their daughter-you have the right. It was the only letter she had from him, because they were together. She was in the W.R.A.F.’s-you know that. He was killed before he could write again. His plane was lost. He went out on-what do they call them-a reconnaissance or something like that-and he didn’t come back. He didn’t come back-” There was a pause. The eyelids fell. The room was very quiet. The minutes went by.

Then very suddenly the eyes were open again.

“I only saw the one sentence-just the one-but it made me think. I couldn’t get it out of my head. You see, he called her ‘My wife-my precious wife’-there, at the end of the letter. I couldn’t help thinking if they were married, then the house was yours-it was all yours.”

It didn’t penetrate. It was just something that the pale lips were saying. Jenny couldn’t believe it. The hand which held Miss Garstone’s was steady. Her mind shut all its doors. She couldn’t believe it at all. She said,

“If they were married, she would have said.”

“I thought of that-I thought he felt that way about her. But it couldn’t be true-it couldn’t really be true-”

The thought came into Jenny’s mind, “Why couldn’t it?” Before she knew what she was going to do she heard herself saying,

“Why couldn’t it be true?”

Miss Garstone looked at her. She made an effort that moved her head a little, and she looked at Jenny.

“I knew you would ask me that some day.”