somewhat darker against the darkness and of uneven heights, growing smaller, so that it was not finally the darkness which made them impossible to see, but the corner of the Biddles’house.
When they were gone she continued to look up and down the street as far as she could see. There was the strong carbon light at the corner, and there was the glow of an unseen light at a more distant corner to the west; and of another, still more distant, to the east. There was no sound, and there were no lights on in any of the houses. The air moved mildly on her forehead. She turned, and saw that her aunt was watching her, and looked into her eyes.
“Time to sleep,” she said.
She closed the door; they continued to look at each other.
“It was just about this time last night,” she said.
Hannah sighed, very low; after a moment she touched Mary’s hand. Still they stood and looked at each other.
“Yes, just about,” Mary whispered strangely.
Through the silence they began to hear the kitchen clock.
“Let’s not even try to talk now,” Mary said. “We’re both worn out.”
“Let me fix you a good hot toddy,” Hannah said, as they turned towards the living room. “Help you sleep.”
“I honestly don’t think I’ll need it, Aunt Hannah.”
I’ll make one and you take it or not as you like, Hannah wanted to say; suddenly she realized: I’m only trying to think I’m useful. She said nothing.
There was an odd kind of shyness or constraint between them, which neither could understand. They stood still again, just inside the living room; the silence was somewhat painful for both of them, each on the other’s account. Does she really want me to stay, Hannah wondered; what earthly use am I! Does she think I don’t want her to stay, Mary wondered, just because I can’t talk? No, she’s no talker.
