Whatever possible interest she might
have taken was destroyed by the fact that Miss Bobinet insisted upon
winning two out of every three games. It soon became evident that while
she would not cheat on her own behalf, she expected her opponent to cheat
for her. So Nance dutifully slipped her trump cards back in the deck and
forgot to declare while she idly watched the flash of diamonds on the
wrinkled yellow hands, and longed for the clock to strike the next hour.
At lunch she sat in the kitchen opposite Susan and listened to a recital
of that melancholy person's woes. Susan and her mistress, being mutually
dependent, had endured each other's exclusive society for close upon
twenty years. The result was that each found the other the most
stimulating of all subjects of conversation. When Nance was not listening
to tirades against Susan up-stairs, she was listening to bitter
complaints against Miss Bobinet down-stairs.
In the afternoon she was expected to read at the top of her voice from
"The Church Guide," until Miss Bobinet got sleepy; then it was her duty
to sit motionless in the stuffy, camphor-laden room, listening to an
endless succession of vocal gymnastics until what time the old lady saw
fit to wake up.
If Nance had been a provident young person, she might have improved those
idle hours during that interminable winter by continuing her study of
stenography. But, instead, she crouched on the floor by the window,
holding her active young body motionless, while her thoughts like
distracted imprisoned things flew round their solid walls of facts,
frantically seeking some loophole of escape.
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