Dangerous Ages

y before and spent the night, because Mrs. Hilary liked to have her all to herself for a little time before the other

n Mrs. Hilary's opinion, immoral. Pamela, who was thirty-nine and working in a settlement in Hoxton, annoyed her by her devotion to Frances Carr, the friend with whom she lived. Mrs. Hilary thought them very silly, these close friendships between women. They prevented marriage, and led to foo

d her eldest son, annoyed her not at all. Nor did Neville, who was her

ree. She was a tall, slight, trailing woman, with the remains of beauty, and her dark, untidy hair was only streaked with grey. Since her husband had died, ten years ago, she had lived at St. Mary's Bay with her mother. It had been her old home; not The Gulls, but the v

to them. "Some people think the place is imp

ft, as she cared neither for cards, knitting, gardening, nor intellectual pursuits. Once, seven years ago, at Neville's instigation, she had tried London life for a time, but it had been no use. The people she met there were too unlike her, too intelligent and up to date; they went to meetings and concerts and picture exhibitions and read books and talked about public affairs not emotionally but coolly and drily; they were mildly surprised at Mrs. Hilary's vehemence of feeling on all points, and she was strained beyond endurance by their knowledge of facts and catholicity of

o stay and stay and stay, idling on the empty, darkened stage. (That was how Mrs. Hilary, with her gift for picturesque language, put it.) Must it be empty, must it be dark, Neville uselessly asked, knowing quite well th

t in twenty years?" Ne

hat you won't have lost Rodney

I have

or both.... What then? Only she was better equipped than her mother for the fag end of life; she had a serviceable brain and a sound education. She wouldn't pass empty days at a seaside resort. She would work at something, and b

through it?" Nevil

ll of you; I didn't notice. But I think she had it badly, for a

n the sofa and could not hear their talking for the sound

er the cold seas of tedious regret. "And there's natural gaiety. And intellectual interests. And contacts with other

, sharply. "Oh, I suppose you think I've no right to

cts with people, which mostly either over-strained, irritated or bored her, and that aspect of religion which made her cry. For she was a Unitar

decided. And, indeed, it is probable that Mrs. Hilary would have been one or other of these things if it had not been fo