Elfrida sat against the table with her elbows among its litter of paged manuscript, her face hidden in her hands.

Janet rose and took a step or two toward her.

Then she paused, and looked at the little bronze image on the table instead.

Elfrida was suddenly shaken by deep, indrawn, silent sobs.
"It is finished, then," Janet said softly; "we are to separate for always, Buddha, she and I.She will not know any more of me nor I of her--it will be, so far as we can make it, like the grave.

You must belong to a strange world, Buddha, always to smile!" She spoke evenly quietly, with, restraint, and still she did not look at the convulsively silent figure in the chair.