"People always come back in books," Fanny had said, endeavouring, in all good faith, to administer consolation; and Lucy had actually laughed.
"Your sister ought to be able to do better for herself," Edward Marsh said, later on, to his wife.
But Fanny, who had had a genuine liking for kind Frank, disagreed for once with the marital opinion.
"He was good, and he loved her. She has always that to remember," Gertrude thought, as she watched Lucy going about her business with a calmness that alarmed her more than the most violent expressions of sorrow would have done.
"Dear little Frank! I wonder if he is really dead," Phyllis reflected, staring with wide eyes at the house opposite, rather as if she expected to see a ghost issue from the door.
Fortunately for the Lorimers they had little time for brooding over their troubles. Their success had proved itself no ephemeral one. As people returned to town, work began to flow in upon them from all sides, and their hands were full. Labour and sorrow, the common human portion, were theirs, and they accepted them with courage, if not, indeed, with resignation. September and October glided by, and now the winter was upon them.
