She never came away from such sights and places without a feeling of revolt amounting almost to rage; and she only continued to go because she dimly knew that it was expected of her not to turn her back on such things, in her section of Society.
But it was not this feeling which made her stop before Mrs.Noel's cottage; nor was it curiosity.

It was a quite simple desire to squeeze her hand.
'Anonyma' seemed taking her trouble as only those women who are no good at self-assertion can take things--doing exactly as she would have done if nothing had happened; a little paler than usual, with lips pressed rather tightly together.
They neither of them spoke at first, but stood looking, not at each other's faces, but at each other's breasts.

At last Barbara stepped forward impulsively and kissed her.
After that, like two children who kiss first, and then make acquaintance, they stood apart, silent, faintly smiling.

It had been given and returned in real sweetness and comradeship, that kiss, for a sign of womanhood making face against the world; but now that it was over, both felt a little awkward.

Would that kiss have been given if Fate had been auspicious?
Was it not proof of misery?
So Mrs.Noel's smile seemed saying, and Barbara's smile unwillingly admitted.
Perceiving that if they talked it could only be about the most ordinary things, they began speaking of music, flowers, and the queerness of bees' legs.