In this retreat, which contained a rustic bench, Nedda was accustomed to sit and read; she went there now.

And her eyes began filling with tears.

Why must the poor old fellow who had driven her look so anxious and call on God to bless her for giving him that little present?
Why must people grow old and helpless, like that Grandfather Gaunt she had seen at Becket?
Why was there all the tyranny that made Derek and Sheila so wild?
And all the grinding poverty that she herself could see when she went with her mother to their Girls' Club, in Bethnal Green?
What was the use of being young and strong if nothing happened, nothing was really changed, so that one got old and died seeing still the same things as before?
What was the use even of loving, if love itself had to yield to death?
The trees! How they grew from tiny seeds to great and beautiful things, and then slowly, slowly dried and decayed away to dust.

What was the good of it all?
What comfort was there in a God so great and universal that he did not care to keep her and Derek alive and loving forever, and was not interested enough to see that the poor old cab-driver should not be haunted day and night with fear of the workhouse for himself and an old wife, perhaps?
Nedda's tears fell fast, and how far THIS was Chardonnet no one could tell.
Felix, seeking inspiration from the sky in regard to 'The Last of the Laborers,' heard a noise like sobbing, and, searching, found his little daughter sitting there and crying as if her heart would break.

The sight was so unusual and so utterly disturbing that he stood rooted, quite unable to bring her help.