As she considered this her anger and her confusion at her anger
increased. She saw that Martin was talking to her aunt and did not
look at her. Perhaps he also had thought her forward; of course that
horrid sister of his would think everything that she did wrong. But
did he? Surely he understood. She wanted to ask him and then wanted
to go home and leave them all. She saw that her teacup was trembling
in her hand. She steadied it upon her knee and then her knee began
to quiver, and all the time Amy Warlock watched her. She thought
then that she must assert herself and show that she was not confused
nor timid, so she began in a high-strained voice to talk to Mrs.
Warlock. She told Mrs. Warlock that she found Harrods' a confusing
place, that she had not yet visited Westminster Abbey, that her
health was quite good, that she had no brothers and no sisters, that
she could not play the piano, and that she was afraid that she never
read books.
It was after the last of these interesting statements that she was
suddenly aware of the sound of her own voice, as though it had been
a brazen gong beating stridently in the vastness of a deserted
Cathedral.
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