"I'm not wonderful," said her mother. "I have no wish to cry. I'm beyond
it. Other people's trouble often makes us behave more emotionally than
our own. If it were your Pete, I should be in tears." She smiled, and
looked across the girl's head at Mr. Lanley. "She would like to see him,
Papa. Telephone Pete Wayne, will you, and ask him to come and see her
this evening? You'll be here, won't you?"

Mr. Lanley nodded without cordiality; he did not approve of encouraging
the affair unnecessarily.

"How kind you are, Mama!" exclaimed Mathilde, almost inaudibly. It was
just what she wanted, just what she had been wanting all day, to see her
own man, to assure herself, since death was seen to be hot on the trail
of all mortals, that he and she were not wasting their brief time in
separation.

"We might take a turn in the motor," said Mr. Lanley, thinking that Mrs.
Wayne might enjoy that.

"It would do you both good."

"And leave you alone, Mama?"

"It's what I really want, dear."

The plan did not fulfil itself quite as Mr. Lanley had imagined. Mrs.
Wayne was out at some sort of meeting. They waited a moment for Pete.
Mathilde fixed her eyes on the lighted doorway, and said to herself that
in a few seconds the thing of all others that she desired would