"No, I drove. But I am tired. It was not easy work getting through the crowd. They did not seem to want to let me pass. Once or twice I thought they were going to attack me."
Lois laughed.
"They are only pilgrims. They come every year, and are quite harmless. Hark at them now! There must be a band of them going past. Would you like to watch from the verandah? It is really amusing—"
"No, no; this is not the time for amusement. I have something else to do. Mrs. Travers, you are very kind to me. You have the right to hate me."
"I—hate you? Why should I, Beatrice?"
"You call me Beatrice. But we have never been friends."
"Not till now."
"Do you think we are going to be?"
Lois drew up a stool and seated herself at Beatrice's side. Something in the other's firm, gentle hold and in the low voice made her heart ache.
"I don't know. I feel as though we were already."