She
breathed regularly and lightly, as though she were asleep, but
presently she said, 'Charles, I don't mean anything by this, but you
are the only friend I have. You won't think I mean anything, will
you?'
He shook his head and it came to rest on hers. He, too, wished they
might go on like this for ever, to the world's edge.
* * * * *
The car was stopped at a little distance from the house and Henrietta
had to rouse herself from the state between waking and sleeping,
thought and imagery, in which she had passed the journey. The jarring
of the brake shocked her into a recognition of facts and the gentle
humming of the engine reminded her that life had to go on as before.
The persistent sound, regular, not loud, controlled, was like
existence in Nelson Lodge; one wearied of it, yet one would weary more
of accidents breaking the healthy beating of the engine: to-night had
been one of the accidents and she was terribly tired. No wonder! She
had been trying to run away with a man who did not want her, a man who
had a lonely, miserable invalid for a wife, the old lover of Aunt
Rose. A little blaze of anger flared up at the thought of Rose;
nevertheless, she continued her self-accusations. She had been willing
to leave her aunts without a word and they had been good to her and
one of them was ill, and the very money in her pocket was not her own.
She was shocked by her behaviour.
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