"You are speaking of your mother? You are thinking of your mother?"
He bent his head.
For a space neither spoke. Vaguely, and in distant accompaniment to their thoughts, each was conscious of the hum of traffic and of the softly crackling fire; then at last Enid stirred, and with a gesture full of comprehension, her fingers closed round Henderson's.
"Let me tell her the story!" she said, almost inaudibly. "Take me with you—and let me tell her! We are both women, and—" Her head drooped slightly; and her face flushed. "And we both love you."