ing now. It is too late. He is never coming. It is all over now. I am too old. Tomorrow he will write me giving excuses and letting me know that it's ended and again I shall be hurt as if I'd never learned anything. O God, don't let me be hurt this last time, this last time when I am saying good-by to youth, to love, to everything. Love, God, that's all I've ever had. I'm not a clever woman. I'm not a good woman. I've never had anything but love.
She found her nails digging into the stone of the balustrade. "I must go in now," she thought. "I mustn't stand here any longer. I'm being a fool, an old fool like Kitty Whitby. I mustn't do that. I've always been discreet. I've been dignified. O God, if only You had given me faith and peace like Jean. O God, it was You and the Church who took Jean from me. I'd have been a good wife to him.
He's not coming now. He's never coming at all. It's too late. It's all over.
She went inside and threw herself down on the sofa, where she lay for a long time not knowing what she thought, or even whether she was alive. And slowly when she had wept and wept she began to feel calm again and cool.
I must not be a fool, she told herself. It's over now and there's nothing to be done. I must make the most of it. Perhaps if I pray God will send me peace and faith. I must be an old woman now. I must go out in dignity. It's time now. Victor is a man now and he mustn't hear people laugh at his mother. The past is the past, but Victor is old enough now to understand. Victor, Nigel's son.
