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Ah
,
no
,
that
was
for
yesterday
;
it
is
too
late
now
.
He
wanders
the
streets
thinking
of
her
tonight
,
but
she
has
forgotten
him
.
In
her
great
hour
the
man
is
nothing
to
the
woman
;
their
love
is
trivial
now
.
He
and
I
were
on
opposite
sides
of
the
street
,
now
become
familiar
ground
to
both
of
us
,
and
divers
pictures
rose
before
me
in
which
Mary
A
--
--
walked
.
Here
was
the
morning
after
my
only
entry
into
her
house
.
The
agent
had
promised
me
to
have
the
obnoxious
notice-board
removed
,
but
I
apprehended
that
as
soon
as
the
letter
announcing
his
intention
reached
her
she
would
remove
it
herself
,
and
when
I
passed
by
in
the
morning
there
she
was
on
a
chair
and
a
foot-stool
pounding
lustily
at
it
with
a
hammer
.
When
it
fell
she
gave
it
such
a
vicious
little
kick
.
There
were
the
nights
when
her
husband
came
out
to
watch
for
the
postman
.
I
suppose
he
was
awaiting
some
letter
big
with
the
fate
of
a
picture
.
He
dogged
the
postman
from
door
to
door
like
an
assassin
or
a
guardian
angel
;
never
had
he
the
courage
to
ask
if
there
was
a
letter
for
him
,
but
almost
as
it
fell
into
the
box
he
had
it
out
and
tore
it
open
,
and
then
if
the
door
closed
despairingly
the
woman
who
had
been
at
the
window
all
this
time
pressed
her
hand
to
her
heart
.
But
if
the
news
was
good
they
might
emerge
presently
and
strut
off
arm
in
arm
in
the
direction
of
the
pork
emporium
.
One
last
picture
.
On
summer
evenings
I
had
caught
glimpses
of
them
through
the
open
window
,
when
she
sat
at
the
piano
singing
and
playing
to
him
.
Or
while
she
played
with
one
hand
,
she
flung
out
the
other
for
him
to
grasp
.
She
was
so
joyously
happy
,
and
she
had
such
a
romantic
mind
.
I
conceived
her
so
sympathetic
that
she
always
laughed
before
he
came
to
the
joke
,
and
I
am
sure
she
had
filmy
eyes
from
the
very
start
of
a
pathetic
story
.
And
so
,
laughing
and
crying
,
and
haunted
by
whispers
,
the
little
nursery
governess
had
gradually
become
another
woman
,
glorified
,
mysterious
.
I
suppose
a
man
soon
becomes
used
to
the
great
change
,
and
can
not
recall
a
time
when
there
were
no
babes
sprawling
in
his
Mary
's
face
.
I
am
trying
to
conceive
what
were
the
thoughts
of
the
young
husband
on
the
other
side
of
the
street
.
"
If
the
barrier
is
to
be
crossed
to-night
may
I
not
go
with
her
?
She
is
not
so
brave
as
you
think
her
.
When
she
talked
so
gaily
a
few
hours
ago
,
O
my
God
,
did
she
deceive
even
you
?
"
Plain
questions
to-night
.
"
Why
should
it
all
fall
on
her
?
What
is
the
man
that
he
should
be
flung
out
into
the
street
in
this
terrible
hour
?
You
have
not
been
fair
to
the
man
.
"
Poor
boy
,
his
wife
has
quite
forgotten
him
and
his
trumpery
love
.
If
she
lives
she
will
come
back
to
him
,
but
if
she
dies
she
will
die
triumphant
and
serene
.
Life
and
death
,
the
child
and
the
mother
,
are
ever
meeting
as
the
one
draws
into
harbour
and
the
other
sets
sail
.
They
exchange
a
bright
"
All
's
well
"
and
pass
on
.
