You said the
other day that he was selfish, Pauline."
"All brothers are, my dear," returned Pauline oracularly, "and it is
sisters who make them so. Come, strike a blow for your liberty, Rose. You
are not really wanted at home, and you are wasting your days in that dull
little country place. Wouldn't you like to live here with me?"
Rose's face was answer enough. She drew a deep breath before she spoke.
"If only Aunt Lucy wouldn't miss me too much, Pauline! But she's not
strong. I don't think she could do without me."
"She would be better if she came up to London oftener and had a fuller
life," returned Pauline, with decision. "Her ill health has always been
mainly imaginary, Rose. When people have nothing else to do, they sink
into invalidism. But you are making me lose my character as a hostess
altogether. Let us take in the tea. Your aunt will wonder what we have
been doing."
But Miss Merivale had not noticed that the tea was a long time in making
its appearance. She was still absorbed in anxious thought when the girls
came in, and after a little while she managed to lead the conversation
back to Clare and her typewriter.
"Mr. Powell suggested that we should have the programmes for the concert
typewritten, Rose. He said it would be cheaper. Could you give me the
address of Miss Sampson, Miss Smythe?"
"I shouldn't advise you to employ her, Miss Merivale," returned Pauline in
a voice that had a sharp edge to it.
Pages:
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25