Mrs. Durrant turned and walked away by herself.
“Clara!” she called. Clara went to her.
“How unlike they are!” said Miss Eliot.
Mr. Wortley passed them, smoking a cigar.
“Every day I live I find myself agreeing …” he said as he passed them.
“It’s so interesting to guess …” murmured Julia Eliot.
“When first we came out we could see the flowers in that bed,” said
Elsbeth.
“We see very little now,” said Miss Eliot.
“She must have been so beautiful, and everybody loved her, of course,” said Charlotte. “I suppose Mr. Wortley …” she paused.
“Edward’s death was a tragedy,” said Miss Eliot decidedly.
Here Mr. Erskine joined them.
“There’s no such thing as silence,” he said positively. “I can hear twenty different sounds on a night like this without counting your voices.”
“Make a bet o
