V + 

She spoke to no one of what had happened, either on the terrace or in the lane or in the depths of the old attic, and the days came to resume again their old monotonous round, as if the strange, hot, disturbing night had had no more existence than a dream. She did not see OвАЩHara, yet she heard of him, constantly, from Sybil, from Sabine, even from Jack, who seemed stronger than he had ever been and able for a time to go about the farm with his grandfather in the trap drawn by an old white horse. There were moments when it seemed to Olivia that the boy might one day be really well, and yet there was never any real joy in those moments, because always in the back of her mind stood the truth. She knew it would never be, despite all that fierce struggle which she and the old man kept up perpetually against the thing which was stronger than either of them. Indeed, she even found a new sort of sadness in the sight of the pale thin boy and the rugged old man driving along the lanes in the trap, the eyes of the grandfather bright with a look of deluding hope. It was a look which she found unbearable because it was the first time in years, almost since that first day when Jack, as a tiny baby who did not cry enough, came into the world, that the expression of the old man had changed from one of grave and uncomplaining resignation. + 

Sometimes when she watched them together she was filled with a fierce desire to go to John Pentland and tell him that it was not her fault that there were not more children, other heirs to take the place of Jack. She wanted to tell him that she would have had ten children if it were possible, that even now she was still young enough to have more children. She wanted to pour out to him something of that hunger of life which had swept over her on the night in SabineвАЩs garden beneath the apple-tree, a spot abounding in fertility. But she knew, too, how impossible it was to discuss a matter which old John Pentland, in the depths of his soul believed to be вАЬindelicate.вАЭ Such things were all hidden behind a veil which shut out so much of truth from all their lives. There were times when she fancied he understood it all, those times when he took her hand and kissed her affectionately. She fancied that he understood and that the knowledge lay somehow at the root of the old manвАЩs quiet contempt for his own son. + 

But she saw well enough the tragedy that lay deep down at the root of the whole matter. She understood that it was not Anson who was to blame. It was that they had all been caught in the toils of something stronger than any of them, a force which with a cruel injustice compelled her to live a dry, monotonous, barren existence when she would have embraced life passionately, which compelled her to watch her own son dying slowly before her eyes. + 

Always she came back to the same thought, that the boy must be kept alive until his grandfather was dead; and sometimes, standing on the terrace, looking out across the fields, Olivia saw that old Mrs.¬†Soames, dressed absurdly in pink, with a large picture-hat, was riding in the trap with the old man and his grandson, as if in reality she were the grandmother of Jack instead of the mad old woman abovestairs. + 

The days came to resume their round of dull monotony, and yet there was a difference, odd and indefinable, as if in some way the sun were brighter than it had been, as if those days, when even in the bright sunlight the house had seemed a dull gray place, were gone now. She could no longer look across the meadows toward the bright new chimneys of OвАЩHaraвАЩs house without a sudden quickening of breath, a warm pleasant sensation of no longer standing quite alone. + 

She was not even annoyed any longer by the tiresome daily visits of Aunt Cassie, nor by the old womanвАЩs passion for pitying her and making wild insinuations against Sabine and OвАЩHara and complaining of Sybil riding with him in the mornings over the dew-covered fields. She was able now simply to sit there politely as she had once done, listening while the old woman talked on and on; only now she did not even listen with attention. It seemed to her at times that Aunt Cassie was like some insect beating itself frantically against a pane of glass, trying over and over again with an unflagging futility to enter where it was impossible to enter. + 

It was Sabine who gave her a sudden glimpse of penetration into this instinct about Aunt Cassie, Sabine who spent all her time finding out about people. It happened one morning that the two clouds of dust, the one made by Aunt Cassie and the other by Sabine, met at the very foot of the long drive leading up to Pentlands, and together the two womenвБ†вАФone dressed severely in shabby black, without so much as a fleck of powder on her nose, the other dressed expensively in what some Paris dressmaker chose to call a costume de sport, with her face made up like a ParisianвБ†вАФarrived together to sit on the piazza of Pentlands insulting each other subtly for an hour. When at last Sabine managed to outstay Aunt Cassie (it was always a contest between them, for each knew that the other would attack her as soon as she was out of hearing) she turned to Olivia and said abruptly, вАЬIвАЩve been thinking about Aunt Cassie, and IвАЩm sure now of one thing. Aunt Cassie is a virgin!вАЭ + 

There was something so cold-blooded and sudden in the statement that Olivia laughed. + 

вАЬIвАЩm sure of it,вАЭ persisted Sabine with quiet seriousness. вАЬLook at her. SheвАЩs always talking about the tragedy of her being too frail ever to have had children. She never tried. ThatвАЩs the answer. She never tried.вАЭ Sabine tossed away what remained of the cigarette she had lighted to annoy Aunt Cassie and continued. вАЬYou never knew my Uncle Ned Struthers when he was young. You only knew him as an old man with no spirit left. But he wasnвАЩt that way always. ItвАЩs what she did to him. She destroyed him. He was a full-blooded kind of man who liked drinking and horses and he must have liked women, too, but she cured him of that. He would have liked children, but instead of a wife he only got a woman who couldnвАЩt bear the thought of not being married and yet couldnвАЩt bear what marriage meant. He got a creature who fainted and wept and lay on a sofa all day, who got the better of him because he was a nice, stupid, chivalrous fellow.вАЭ + 

Sabine was launched now with all the passion which seized her when she had laid bare a little patch of life and examined it minutely. + 

вАЬHe didnвАЩt even dare to be unfaithful to her. If he looked at another woman she fainted and became deathly ill and made terrible scenes. I can remember some of them. I remember that once he called on Mrs.¬†Soames when she was young and beautiful, and when he came home Aunt Cassie met him in hysterics and told him that if it ever happened again she would go out, вАШfrail and miserable as she was,вАЩ and commit adultery. I remember the story because I overheard my father telling it when I was a child and I was miserable until I found out what вАШcommitting adulteryвАЩ meant. In the end she destroyed him. IвАЩm sure of it.вАЭ + 

Sabine sat there, with a face like stone, following with her eyes the cloud of dust that moved along the lane as Aunt Cassie progressed on her morning round of visits, a symbol in a way of all the forces that had warped her own existence. + 

вАЬItвАЩs possible,вАЭ murmured Olivia. + 

Sabine turned toward her with a quick, sudden movement. вАЬThatвАЩs why she is always so concerned with the lives of other people. She has never had any life of her own, never. SheвАЩs always been afraid. ItвАЩs why she loves the calamities of other people, because sheвАЩs never had any of her own. Not even her husbandвАЩs death was a calamity. It left her free, completely free of troubles as she had always wanted to be.вАЭ + 

And then a strange thing happened to Olivia. It was as if a new Aunt Cassie had been born, as if the old one, so full of tears and easy sympathy who always appeared miraculously when there was a calamity in the neighborhood, the Aunt Cassie who was famous for her good works and her tears and words of religious counsel, had gone down the lane for the last time, never to return again. Tomorrow morning a new Aunt Cassie would arrive, one who outwardly would be the same; only to Olivia she would be different, a woman stripped of all those veils of pretense and emotions with which she wrapped herself, an old woman naked in her ugliness who, Olivia understood in a blinding flash of clarity, was like an insect battering itself against a pane of glass in a futile attempt to enter where it was impossible for her ever to enter. And she was no longer afraid of Aunt Cassie now. She did not even dislike her; she only pitied the old woman because she had missed so much, because she would die without ever having lived. And she must have been young and handsome once, and very amusing. There were still moments when the old ladyвАЩs charm and humor and sharp tongue were completely disarming. + 

Sabine was talking again, in a cold, unrelenting voice. вАЬShe lay there all those years on the sofa covered with a shawl, trying to arrange the lives of everyone about her. She killed AnsonвАЩs independence and ruined my happiness. She terrorized her husband until in the end he died to escape her. He was a good-natured man, horrified of scenes and scandals.вАЭ Sabine lighted a cigarette and flung away the match with a sudden savage gesture. вАЬAnd now she goes about like an angel of pity, a very brisk angel of pity, a harpy in angelвАЩs clothing. She has played her role well. Everyone believes in her as a frail, good, unhappy woman. Some of the saints must have been very like her. Some of them must have been trying old maids.вАЭ + 

She rose and, winding the chiffon scarf about her throat, opened her yellow parasol, saying, вАЬI know IвАЩm right. SheвАЩs a virgin. At least,вАЭ she added, вАЬin the technical sense, sheвАЩs a virgin. I know nothing about her mind.вАЭ + 

And then, changing abruptly, she said, вАЬWill you go up to Boston with me tomorrow? IвАЩm going to do something about my hair. ThereвАЩs gray beginning to come into it.вАЭ + 

Olivia did not answer her at once, but when she did speak it was to say, вАЬYes; IвАЩm going to take up riding again and I want to order clothes. My old ones would look ridiculous now. ItвАЩs been years since I was on a horse.вАЭ + 

Sabine looked at her sharply and, looking away again, said, вАЬIвАЩll stop for you about ten oвАЩclock.вАЭ + 