There was nothing that Mrs. Trenchard desired more than Katherine’s happiness. If Katherine had not loved her she would have let her go, but now ... Katherine’s life was bound up with hers so tightly that nothing, nothing could part them....
Then there came a night of fog, a stranger bowing in the doorway, and all the old days were dead. Mrs. Trenchard was still stunned, the fog was yet about her eyes, and in her heart was a dread that had not yet found its voice nor driven her to determine what she would do.... Meanwhile there was no one in the world who knew her. She did not know herself. Until now there had been in her life no crisis strong enough to force open that realisation.
One morning early in January Mrs. Trenchard said to Katherine at breakfast: “Will you come to the Stores with me this afternoon, Katherine? I have to buy some hot-water bottles and one or two other things. Two of them leak badly ... some hot-water bottles ... and I’d like you to help me.”
“I’m lunching with Rachel, mother,” Katherine said. “But I’ll be back by three if that’s time enough.”
“Three o’clock. Very well, dear. They oughtn’t to leak—we’ve had them quite a short time. Shall I meet you there?”
“No. I’ll come back. We might miss there. I’ll be back by three.”
At ten minutes past three in a large rather confused hat with a black bird and white feathers Mrs. Trenchard was seated waiting in the drawing-room. The fire had had coal poured upon it by Rocket, and it was very black: the room was cold and dark, and Mrs. Trenchard, feeling like an unwelcome guest in her own house, shivered. At twenty minutes past three Mrs. Trenchard began to be afraid that there had been an accident. Katherine was always so punctual. Millie came in.
“Dear mother, what on earth!”
“I’m waiting for Katherine. She was to be back at three from Rachel Seddon’s. We are—were—going to the Stores. You don’t think there can have been an accident?”