A few years later， and not many months apart， both ladies lost their husbands.There was an appropriate exchange of wreaths and condolences， and a brief renewalof intimacy in the half shadow of their mourning； and now， after another interval，they had run across each other in Rome， at the same hotel， each of them the modestappendage of a salient daughter. The similarity of their lot had again drawn themtogether， lending itself to mild jokes， and the mutual confession that， if in old days itmust have been tiring to "keep up" with daughters， it was now， at times， a little dullnot to.

　　No doubt， Mrs. Slade reflected， she felt her unemployment more than poorGrace ever would. It was a big drop from being the wife of Delphin Slade to beinghis widow. She had always regarded herself （with a certain conjugal pride） as hisequal in social gifts， as contributing her full share to the making of the exceptionalcouple they were： but the difference after his death was irremediable. As the wife ofthe famous corporation lawyer， always with an international case or two on hand，every day brought its exciting and unexpected obligation： the impromptu~entertaining of eminent colleagues from abroad， the hurried dashes on legal businessto London， Paris or Rome， where the entertaining was so handsomely reciprocated；the amusement of hearing in her wakes： "What， that handsome woman with the goodclothes and the eyes is Mrs. Slade-the Slade's wife! Really! Generally the wives ofcelebrities are such frumps."

　　Yes； being the Slade's widow was a dullish business after that. In living up tosuch a husband all her faculties had been engaged； now she had only her daughter tolive up to， for the son who seemed to have inherited his father's gifts had diedsuddenly in boyhood. She had fought through that agony because her husband wasthere， to be helped and to help； now， after the father's death.

　　……