Through the open window a breeze came, honey-sweet with the scent of narcissi, and she realized, with a start, that this early spring was poignantly lovely and sad.
"Well, I wish I'd known you twenty years ago," said Vetch presently.

"If I'd had a woman like you to help me, I might have been almost anything.
Nobody knows better than I how much help a woman can be when she's the right sort." She tore her gaze from the sunshine beyond, from the beauty and the wistfulness of April.

What was there in this man that convinced her in spite of everything that Benham had told her?
"Your wife has been dead a long time ?" She spoke gently, for his tone more than his words had touched her sympathy.
As soon as she asked the question, she realized that it was a mistake.
An expressionless mask closed over his face, and she received the impression that he had withdrawn to a distance.
"A long time," was all he answered.

His voice had become so impersonal that it was toneless.
"Well, it hasn't kept you back--not having help," she hastened to reply as naturally as she could.

"You are almost everything you wished to be in the world, aren't you ?" It was a foolish speech, she felt, but the change in his manner had surprised and bewildered her.
He laughed shortly without merriment.