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What am I? Just a prisoner. In a
cottage garden. Looking for ever over a hedge. I should be happier
if I couldn't look. I remember once, only a little time ago, there
was a cheap excursion to London. Our only servant went. She had to
get up at an unearthly hour, and I--I got up too. I helped her to
get off. And when she was gone I went up to my bedroom again and
cried. I cried with envy for any one, any one who could go away.
I've been nowhere--except to school at Chichester and three or four
times to Emsworth and Bognor--for eight years. When you go"--the
tears glittered in the moonlight--"I shall cry. It will be worse
than the excursion to London. . . . Ever since you were here before
I've been thinking of it."
It seemed to Benham that here indeed was the very sister of his
spirit. His words sprang into his mind as one thinks of a repartee.
"But why shouldn't you come too?" he said.
She stared at him in silence. The two white-lit faces examined each
other. Both she and Benham were trembling.
"COME TOO?" she repeated.


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