VI + 

Mrs. Hilary came in, in her dressing-gown, red-eyed. She had heard strangled sounds, and knew that her child was crying. + 

“My darling!” + 

Her arms were round Nan’s shoulders; she was kneeling among the proofs. + 

“My little girl⁠—Nan!” + 

“Mother.⁠ ⁠…” + 

They held each other close. It was a queer moment, though not an unprecedented one in the stormy history of their relations together. A queer, strange, comforting, healing moment, the fleeting shadow of a great rock in a barren land; a strayed fragment of something which should have been between them always but was not. Certainly an odd moment. + 

“My own baby.⁠ ⁠… You’re unhappy.⁠ ⁠…” + 

“Unhappy⁠—yes.⁠ ⁠… Darling mother, it can’t be helped. Nothing can be helped.⁠ ⁠… Don’t let’s talk⁠ ⁠… darling.” + 

Strange words from Nan. Strange for Mrs. Hilary to feel her hand held against Nan’s wet cheek and kissed. + 

Strange moment: and it could not last. The crying child wants its mother; the mother wants to comfort the crying child. A good bridge, but one inadequate for the strain of daily traffic. The child, having dried its tears, watches the bridge break again, and thinks it a pity but inevitable. The mother, less philosophic, may cry in her turn, thinking perhaps that the bridge may be built this time in that way; but, the child having the colder heart, it seldom is. + 

There remain the moments, impotent but indestructible. + 