Betty unclasped her hands from her knee and leaned her chin on them, and looked straight in front of her.
'No,' she said; 'I think never. Then she gave it a turn, swerving as usual from her own part, with 'You know it—you yourself.'
Prudence said nothing. That she knew it hardly needed affirmation; she knew it with such a sad, hopeless certainty. For the eternal roads run straitly, and their running is between gateless walls. The grey, artist's eyes were suddenly wet and blind, with a swift surging of many feelings. Seeing them, Betty said again:
'It wouldn't work—for any of us,' with a new gentle cadence in her tone. Then she went on: 'Tommy and I have got each other. We can help each other, and no one else in the world can help us. Don't you see? Because we know each other so awfully well; we mean a good deal to each other, you know. There's always been just us two. There always will be, and that's the one thing that really matters—the one thing that always will matter. In the end no one else c-counts.'
In that was the ring of certainty; it had not needed to be thought out; it was as if it had always been there, waiting to be defined.
After a moment Betty went on, with this time a little tremor in the tired monotony of her voice.
'I think I should like you to understand—how it's been, you know, always. We've had each other, but we've had no one else much, ever. We rather brought ourselves up; we weren't taught anything about—well, all the things that I suppose you were taught. We came to England when we were about thirteen and fourteen; we hated it, the awful w-weather and all our relations. Directly Tommy left school we came back to Italy, and—well, Tommy got work here. And we knew nobody but—but—well, you probably know the sort our friends are; I expect the others have told you,' she added in parenthesis, with a passing glint of laughter, remembering how Prudence had not sought the close acquaintance which should enable her to know. 'We're very fond of them,' she added, and affection submerged the laughter; 'we've had g-good times together. Well, we hadn't much to live on, and the people round us gambled and ran up debts, and never paid them till they had to; and we did, too. We didn't think—or care—whether the things we did were decent, or honest, or anything of that sort. We just went on from day to day, playing round with each other and our friends, and we were very happy.... I don't think, somehow, that we've ever had a proper chance.... And when you j-judge us, you might, perhaps, remember that.'
Prudence, who had listened gravely in silence, as always, said now:
'How should I judge you, or you me? I have not done that, ever.'
Betty said, smiling a little sadly: