and hers, using words like a hammer, looking wise, doing it so well.
"Aren't they coming back?" asked Kitty. "I wish you'd look."
There was nothing in the garden; only a column of birds swinging across the lake of green light that lay before the sunset.
A long time after Kitty spoke once more:
"Jenny, do look again."
There had fallen a twilight which was a wistfulness of the earth. Under the cedar-boughs I dimly saw a figure mothering something in her arms. Almost had she dissolved into the shadows; in another moment the night would have her. With his back turned on this fading unhappiness Chris walked across the lawn. He was looking up under his brows at the overarching house as though it were a hated place to which, against all his hopes, business had forced him to return. He
