"Very well. I'll try to remember."
A sign from Miriam drew Helen into the garden.
"Silly of you to come in by the front way. Of course she heard. If the garden door is locked, you can climb the wall and get on to the scullery roof. Then there's my window."
Helen measured the distance with her eye. "It's too high up."
"Throw up a shoe and I'll lower a chair for you."
"But—this is horrid," Helen said. "Why should I?"
Miriam's thin shoulders went up and down. "You never know, you never know," she chanted. "You never know what you may come to."
"Don't!" Helen begged. She leaned against a poplar and looked mournfully from the window to Miriam's face.
"No," Miriam said, "I've never done it. I only planned it in case of need. It would be a way of escape, too, if she ever locked me up. She's capable of that. Helen, I don't like this rejuvenation!"
"Don't," Helen said again.