Unorna sighed.

The passing breath traveling on the air of the lonely place seemed both to invite and to offer sympathy.
"My father died last week," Beatrice said in a very low tone, that was not quite steady.

"I am quite alone--here and in the world." She laid her hand upon the latch and her deep black eyes rested upon Unorna's, as though almost, but not quite, conveying an invitation, hungry for human comfort, yet too proud to ask it.
"I am very lonely, too," said Unorna.

"May I sit with you for a while ?" She had but just time to make the bold stroke that was necessary.

In another moment she knew that Beatrice would have disappeared within.