her thin cheeks flushed arbutus-like, and her rather metallic voice
was grown low and gentle. Billy brought memories with him, you see;
and for the moment, she was Kathleen Eppes again--Kathleen Eppes in
the first flush of youth, eager, trustful, and joyous-hearted, as he
had known her long ago. Since then, the poor woman had eaten of the
bread of dependence and had found it salt enough; she had paid for it
daily, enduring a thousand petty slights, a thousand petty insults,
and smiling under them as only women can. But she had forgotten now
that shrewd Kathleen Saumarez who must earn her livelihood as best she
might. She smiled frankly--a purely unprofessional smile.