her Sunday gown of blue nun's veiling. The unwonted responsibilities of her present task had deepened her care-worn expression.
"Now please," said Miss Bradford, coming back to the fire, "what were you talking about?"
"Oh, about living," answered Mrs. Kent. She was sitting in an old-fashioned arm-chair, the light falling softly on her smooth pale hair.
"Living? Is that all?" asked Anne with a laugh. "Life's just a chance to watch other people's lives and put down what you see. It is a stepping-stone to art."
"Isn't life," said Mrs. Kent slowly, "simply a chance to live?"
She said "live," but she meant "love."
Helen looked up from her seat on the divan and flushed slightly. Mr. Stanton was the only person who made her feel shy.
"I wonder," she said, "why one can't do one's work, and help people, and live besides?"
