At another time she said--I think her words were: "You'll be lonely when I'm gone, dear."

"You'll not think of going, then," I said.

"Eh, dear! but man and maid should come together."

I said nothing to that.

"You brood overmuch on Nettie, dear. If I could see you married to some sweet girl of a woman, some good, kind girl--"

"Dear mother, I'm married enough. Perhaps some day--Who knows? I can wait."

"But to have nothing to do with women!"

"I have my friends. Don't you trouble, mother. There's plentiful work for a man in this world though the heart of love is cast out from him. Nettie was life and beauty for me--is--will be. Don't think I've lost too much, mother."

(Because in my heart I told myself the end had still to come.)

And once she sprang a question on me suddenly that surprised me.

"Where are they now?" she asked.

"Who?"

"Nettie and--him."

She had pierced to the marrow of my thoughts. "I don't know," I said shortly.

Her shrivelled hand just fluttered into touch of mine.

"It's better so," she said, as if pleading. "Indeed . . . it is better so."