midday
Was it merely the sense of recovered helpfulness , or something warmer , more personal , that made it a joy to trace his name , and to remind him of their last intimate exchange of words ? Well -- perhaps it was that too . There were moments when she was so mortally lonely that any sympathetic contact with another life sent a glow into her veins -- that she was thankful to warm herself at any fire . BESSY , languidly glancing through her midday mail some five days later , uttered a slight exclamation as she withdrew her finger-tip from the flap of the envelope she had begun to open . It was a black sleety day , with an east wind bowing the trees beyond the drenched window-panes , and the two friends , after luncheon , had withdrawn to the library , where Justine sat writing notes for Bessy , while the latter lay back in her arm-chair , in the state of dreamy listlessness into which she always sank when not under the stimulus of amusement or exercise . She sat suddenly upright as her eyes fell on the letter . `` I beg your pardon !