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Chapter 10

           Theycamebustlingalongthepassage.Thenthedoorsprangopenandintheycame,freshasroses,staring,wideawake,asifthiscomingintothedining-roomafterbreakfast,whichtheydideverydayoftheirlives,wasapositiveeventtothem,andsoon,withonethingafteranother,alldaylong,untilshewentuptosaygood-nighttothem,andfoundthemnettedintheircotslikebirdsamongcherriesandraspberries,stillmakingupstoriesaboutsomelittlebitofrubbish—somethingtheyhadheard,somethingtheyhadpickedupinthegarden.Theyallhadtheirlittletreasures...Andsoshewentdownandsaidtoherhusband,Whymusttheygrowupandloseitall?Neverwilltheybesohappyagain.Andhewasangry.Whytakesuchagloomyviewoflife?hesaid.Itisnotsensible.Foritwasodd;andshebelievedittobetrue;thatwithallhisgloomanddesperationhewashappier,morehopefulonthewhole,thanshewas.Lessexposedtohumanworries—perhapsthatwasit.Hehadalwayshisworktofallbackon.Notthatsheherselfwas"pessimistic,"asheaccusedherofbeing.Onlyshethoughtlife—andalittlestripoftimepresenteditselftohereyes—herfiftyyears.Thereitwasbeforeher—life.Life,shethought—butshedidnotfinishherthought.Shetookalookatlife,forshehadaclearsenseofitthere,somethingreal,somethingprivate,whichshesharedneitherwithherchildrennorwithherhusband.

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