"I think you are; a creature in long clothes. Daisy, get along, and leave me in peace."
"Why? You're not really working; you are just making believe. I believe you like to sit and think about Nigel's being at home again."
The words stung—how sharply innocent Daisy little dreamed.
"And I believe Nigel's at the Rectory, and you know it."
"No, I don't."
"I don't see why he shouldn't—except for madre. Poor darling madre! I'll never like anybody out of the house, I'm quite determined, except just a moderate little amount. But I suppose Nigel must have friends. Anyhow, he's the dearest old fellow alive—isn't he?"
Fulvia was silent.
"He's grown so jolly and handsome! I do like a big, strong brother; don't you?"
Silence still. Fulvia was pricking her work dreamily with the needle.
"Fulvie, you always used to praise Nigel more than anybody. Why don't you answer?"