"
Lilian kept her eyes on the ground. The widow glanced off to a
totally different subject, which occupied them the rest of the way
back to the cottage.
Daylight lasted until they had finished tea, then a lamp was brought
in and the red blind drawn down. Quarrier had gone to spend the day
at a neighbouring town, and would not be back before late in the
evening, so that Lilian had arranged to go from Mrs. Wade's to the
Liversedges'. They still had a couple of hours' talk to enjoy; on
Lilian's side, at all events, it was unfeigned enjoyment. The cosy
little room put her at ease Its furniture was quite in keeping with
the simple appearance of the house, but books and pictures told that
no ordinary cottager dwelt here.
"I have had many an hour of happiness in this room," said Mrs. Wade,
as they seated themselves by the fire. "The best of all between
eleven at night and two in the morning. You know the lines in
'Penseroso.' Most men would declare that a woman can't possibly
appreciate them; I know better. I am by nature a student; the life
of society is nothing to me; and, in reality, I care very little
about politics."
Smiling, she watched the effect of her words.
"You are content with solitude?" said Lilian, gazing at her with a
look of deep interest.
"Quite. I have no relatives who care anything about me, and only two
or three people I call friends.
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