There was a pause. To Mathilde it seemed extraordinary the way older people sometimes stalled and shifted about perfectly obvious issues; but, wishing to be patient, she explained:
“Don’t you see it makes some difference in our situation?”
“The greatest, I should think,” said Adelaide, and just hinted that she might go back to her book at any instant.
“But don’t you think—” Mathilde began again, when Farron interrupted her almost sharply.
“Mathilde,” he said, “there’s a well-known business axiom, not to try to get things on paper too early.”
She bent her head a trifle on one side in the way a puppy will when an unusual strain is being put upon its faculties. It seemed to her curious, but she saw she was being advised to drop the subject. Suddenly Adelaide sprang to her feet and said she was going to bed.
“I hope your headache will be better, Mama,” Mathilde hazarded; but Adelaide went without answering. Mathilde looked at Mr. Farron.
“You haven’t learned to wait,” he said.
“It’s so hard to wait when you are on bad terms with people you love!”
She was surprised that he smiled—a smile that conveyed more pain than amusement.