The hush of an English Sunday evening enfolded the road, the
wood, the fields. The sun was very low and the saffron light
penetrated the dark lines of the hedges and hung like a curtain of
misty gold before the approaches to the wood. The red-brown fields
rolled to the horizon and lay, like a carpet, at the foot of the
town huddled against the pale sky.
She was near the wood, and could see the little dark twisted cone-
strewn paths that led into the purple depths, when a woman came out
of it towards her. She saw that it was Miss Toms. It seemed quite
natural to see her there because it was on this same road that she
had first met the lady and her brother. Miss Toms also did not seem
at all surprised. She shook Maggie warmly by the hand.
"You said that I wouldn't come often to see you," said Maggie.
"And it's been true. Things have been more difficult for me than I
knew at the time."
"That's all right," said Miss Toms.
"But I ought to tell you," said Maggie, "that although I haven't
been to see you, I've felt as though you and your brother were my
friends, more than any one in this place.
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