Page:Middle Aged Love Stories (IA middleagedlove00bacorich).djvu/298

 mother was broken down and old. She had to be. There were nine of us, and here there’s only little Dudley, and it was so long before he came.”

They sat quietly. The setting sun flamed through the crab-apples and burnished the fur of the tortoise-shell cat. The mint smelled strong. The sweet, mellow summer evening was reflected in her handsome face, with its delicate lines, that only added a restful charm to forehead and cheek. He had no need to talk; it was very, very pleasant sitting there.

A maid came out to get the mayonnaise, and the spell was broken. He took out his watch.

“Just time to dress,” he sighed. “Will you be here again? We must talk old times once more.”

She smiled and seemed to assent, but her eyes were not on him; she was still in a revery. He walked softly away. She seemed hardly to notice him, and