"Let us cry.

There's nothing for either of us to do but cry until our hearts break in two.

We are all alone and no one can hear us." "There's naught but the wood outside," moaned the old fairy woman.
The voice against the shawl was a moan also.
"Perhaps the wood hears us--perhaps it hears.

Oh! me! Oh! me!" * * * * * When she reached London she saw that there were excited groups of people talking together in the streets.

Among them were women who were crying, or protesting angrily or comforting others.