“My father staying away, and Aunt Briscoe seeing nobody,” she said.
“I don’t know. I wish I did,” was my answer.
“Is she inclined to take offence?”
“I believe so; but we have never offended her before. Nor have we done so now—knowingly.”
“You have done nothing that could rightly give offence. It is Aunt Briscoe and my father who have kept aloof from you, not you who have kept aloof from them.”
“Yes; but she is growing old, and old people often have fancies.”
“Would it matter to you if Aunt Briscoe really were seriously offended,—or if she changed? Are you so very fond of her?”
“I believe my husband loves her for the sake of old days, and for the sake of her dear old husband,” I said. “No; I am not so fond of her as I ought to be, Maimie.”
“Then it would not really matter much?”
“Not in that way.”