"I've gone a great deal too far?"
"I really think you have, rather, and without an atom of reason."
"Oh, entirely! I apologise. That sort of thing happens to be—to be in my thoughts."
Sibylla, in some anger, had risen to go. The last words arrested her movement, and she stood in the middle of the room, looking down on Christine's little figure, nestling in a big armchair.
"Your thoughts? That sort of thing in your thoughts?"
"Oh, entirely in retrospect, my dear; and it generally comes of not being appreciated, and of wanting an outlet for—for—well, for something or other, you know."
"Are you going to speak plainly, Christine?"
"Not for worlds, my dear! Are you going to drop my acquaintance?"
"Why is it in your thoughts? You say it's—it's all in the past?"
"Really I'm beginning to doubt if there's such a thing as the past; and if there isn't, it makes everything so much worse! I thought it was all done with—done with long ago; and now it isn't. It's just all—all over my life, as it used to be. And I—I'm afraid again. And I'm lying again. It means so many lies, you know." She looked up at Sibylla with a plaintiveness coloured by malice. "So if I've been impertinent, just put it down to what I happen to be thinking about, my dear."