Not that I mean," she went on rather fiercely,
raising her head, "that he was to blame. No one ever understood him.
He could have done great things if--if--some one had looked after
him a little. But he hadn't any one. That was my fault. I didn't
want you and Paul to think I don't blame myself. I do all the time.
I can't promise to be better in the future because I've promised so
often and I never am. But I am sorry."
Grace said nothing for a moment. Her hands trembled more than ever.
Then, without looking up, she murmured as though to her sewing:
"Oh no. Maggie . . . no one blames you, I'm sure."
There was another pause, then Grace said:
"I think I'm not well. No, I can't be well because I'm not sleeping,
although I've taken aspirin more, I'm sure, than I ought to. What I
mean is that they say it's bad for your heart. Of course things have
been very unfortunate, from the beginning one might say, but I'm
sure it's not been any one's fault exactly. What I mean is that
these things never are . . . No, they aren't really. I expect we all
want a change."
"What are you frightened of me for, Grace," asked Maggie.
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