Hortense, as pretty as ever and as pert, spoke first.
"I wouldn't have known you, Mrs. Mc— Buck!"
"No? Why not?"
"You look—no one would think you'd ever worked in your life. I was down at the office the other day for a minute—the first time since I was married. They told me you weren't there any more."
"No; I haven't been down since my marriage either. I'm like you—an elegant lady of leisure."
Hortense's bright-blue eyes dwelt searchingly on the face of her former employer.
"The bunch in the office said they missed you something awful." Then, in haste: "Oh, I don't mean that Mr. Buck don't make things go all right. They're awful fond of him. But—I don't know—Miss Kelly said she never has got over waiting for the sound of your step down the hall at nine—sort of light and quick and sharp and busy, as if you couldn't wait till you waded into the day's work. Do you know what I mean?"
"I know what you mean," said Emma.
There was a little pause. The two women so far apart, yet so near; so different, yet so like, gazed far down into each other's soul.
"Miss it, don't you?" said Hortense.