The meeting between Anne Cardinal and Mrs. Warlock was very
gracious. Aunt Anne gravely pressed the old lady's hand, looked at
her with her grave distant eyes, then very carefully and delicately
sat down.
Amy Warlock came in; Maggie had met her before and disliked her.
Conversation dealt decently and carefully with the weather, the
canary and Maggie's discovery of London. Maggie was compelled to
confess that she was afraid that she had not discovered London at
all. She felt Amy Warlock's sharp eyes upon them all and, as always
when she was in company that was, she thought, suspicious of her,
she became hot and uncomfortable, she frowned and spoke in short,
almost hostile, sentences.
"They're laughing at my new clothes," she thought, "I wish I'd worn
my old ones . . . and anyway these hurt me." She sat up very
stiffly, her hands on her lap, her eyes staring at the little bright
water-colour on the wall opposite. Mrs. Warlock, like a trickling,
dancing brook, continued her talk:
"Of course there's the country. I was brought up as a girl just
outside Salisbury . . . So many, many years ago--I always tell my
boy that I'm such an old woman now that I don't belong to his world
at all.
Pages:
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234