TIME PASSEScome all these years; just sent her money; but neverwrote, never came, and expected to find things asthey had left them, ah, dear! Why the dressing-tabledrawers were full of things (she pulled them open),handkerchiefs, bits of ribbon. Yes, she could seeMrs. Ramsay as she came up the drive with thewashing.

"Good-evening, Mrs. McNab," she would say.

She had a pleasant way with her. The girls allliked her. But, dear, many things had changed sincethen (she shut the drawer); many families had losttheir dearest. So she was dead; and Mr. Andrewkilled; and Miss Prue dead too, they said, with herfirst baby; but every one had lost some one theseyears. Prices had gone up shamefully, and didn'tcome down again neither. She could well rememberher in her grey cloak.

"Good-evening, Mrs. McNab," she said, andtold cook to keep a plate of milk soup for her—quite thought she wanted it, carrying that heavybasket all the way up from town. She could see hernow, stooping over her flowers; and faint and flick-ering, like a yellow beam or the circle at the end ofa telescope, a lady in a grey cloak, stooping over herflowers, went wandering over the bedroom wall, upthe dressing-table, across the wash-stand, as Mrs.McNab hobbled and ambled, dusting, straightening.205

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