absorbed in her child, and was apparently unconscious of him. His arms were folded and his head bent, but he was looking at her in an absent, miserable way. It was as if she made him think of something bitter and sad.
Meg and Robin passed him quietly.
"I see what you meant, Meg," Robin said. "He does look as if something was the matter with him. I wonder what it is."
When they passed out of the gates at dusk, it was with worn-out bodies, but enraptured souls. In the street car, which they indulged in the extravagance of taking, the tired people, sitting exhaustedly on the seats and hanging on to straps, looked with a sort of wonder at them; their faces shone so like stars. They did not know where they were going to sleep, and they were more than ready for lying down, but they were happy beyond words.
They went with the car until it reached the city's heart, and then they got out and walked. The streets were lighted and the thoroughfares were a riot of life and sound. People were going to theatres, restaurants, and hotels, which were a blaze of electric radiance. They found themselves limping a little, but they kept stoutly on, holding firmly to the satchel. "We needn't be afraid of going anywhere, however poor it looks,"
