From the breast of her threadbare jacket she took a worn silver locket and showed me a little snapshot of myself.
“There, I have the souvenir of happy days. Now I must go.”
She looked very frail, and of a colour almost transparent. She tried hard to smile. Then she swayed as if she would faint, but recovered herself by clutching at a chair.
“Little Thing,” I said, “it’s too late, but we must at least shake hands.”
She pulled off a grey cotton glove and held out a hand all toilworn and needle-warped.
“Good-bye,” she said wearily.
I seized the little thin hand, conscious that my hot tears were falling on it. Looking up, I saw that her eyes too were a-stream with tears.
“Good-bye,” I said chokingly.
“Good-bye, darleen, good-bye for evaire....”
That was all. She turned and left me standing there. I heard her coughing as she went downstairs. Sinking down I sobbed as if my heart would break....