"But I don't need to do them, really, for myself."
"For some one else, then?"
It was then that another veil dropped from before her.
"Then is that why, do you think, people devote themselves to those low, common things—great saints and those that give up their own lives?"
I think so, yes."
"It is a real relief to them?"
"Why not? ..."
She fell asleep on the broad window-seat, her head on her arms, and when she woke and groped for her bed in the dark, the balcony was empty.
There was no bustle of departure: a grave hand-shaking from the daughters, a kiss on the mother's withered, rosy cheek.
"Come back again, do," said the old woman and the doctor commented upon this as they sat in the train.