A gloomy spectacle it was indeed, with a cold rain
slanting through the discredited remnants of a fog,
which the east wind had broken up, but could not drive away,
and with only now and again a passer-by moving across
the dim vista, masked beneath an umbrella, or bent forward
with chin buried in turned-up collar. In the doorway
outside the sulky boy stamped his feet and slapped his
sides with his arms in pantomimic mutiny against the task
of guarding the book-stalls' dripping covers, which nobody
would be mad enough to pause over, much less to lift.
"I don't know but I'd ought to let the boy bring in the books
and go home," she said, as their vague gaze was attracted
by his gestures. "But it isn't three yet--it seems ridiculous
to close up. Still, if you'd be more comfortable upstairs"
"Why, mamma! The idea of making strangers of us,
"protested Julia. She strove to make her tone cheerful,
but its effect of rebuke was unmistakable.
The mother, leaning against the tall desk, looked blankly
at her daughter. The pallid flicker of the gas-jet
overhead made her long, listless face seem more devoid
of colour than ever.
"But you are as good as strangers, aren't you?"
she observed, coldly. "You've been back in town ten days
and more, and I've scarcely laid eyes upon either of you.
But don't you want to sit down? You can put those parcels
on the floor anywhere.
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