She felt angry,
and she burst out, 'I won't have you speaking like that about
Charles.'
'Certainly not, if he's a friend of yours.'
'And I won't have you laughing at me.'
He stopped in his long stride. 'Don't you laugh yourself at the things
that please you very much?'
'Oh, don't!' she begged. He was too much for her; she was helpless, as
though she had been drugged to a point when she could move and think,
but only through a mist, and she felt that his ease, approaching
impudence, was as indecent as Aunt Rose's calm. It was both irritating
and pleasing to know that she could have shattered both with the word
she was incapable of saying, but her nearest approach to that was an
inquiry after the health of Mrs. Sales. He replied that she was
looking forward to Henrietta's visit. She had very few pleasures and
was always glad to see people.
'Aunt Rose'--here was an opportunity--'comes, doesn't she, every
week?'
He said he believed so.
'Did you know her when she was a little girl?'
He gave a discouraging affirmative.
'What was she like?'
'I don't know.' He had, indeed, forgotten.
'Well, you must remember her when she was young.'
'Young?'
Henrietta nodded bravely though he seemed to smoulder. 'As young as I
am.'
'She was exactly the same as she is now. No, not quite.'
'Nicer?'
'Nicer? What a word! Nice!' He looked all round him and made a
flourish with his stick. He could not express himself, yet he seemed
unable to be silent.
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