“I am afraid you must,” said Rhoda. “But at least I can offer you a seat.”
Zoe sat down, and there was an awkward silence.
“Oh, dear,” said Zoe; “I don't know how to begin. I wish you would give me your hand, as I can't see your face.”
“With all my heart: there.”
(Almost in a whisper) “He has told me.”
Rhoda put the other hand to her face, though it was so dark.
“Oh, Miss Gale, how could you? Only think! Suppose you had killed yourself, or made yourself very ill. Your mother would have come directly and found you so; and only think how unhappy you would have made her.”
“Can I have forgotten my mother?” asked Rhoda of herself, but aloud.
“Not willfully, I am sure. But you know geniuses are not always wise in these little things. They want some good humdrum soul to advise them in the common affairs of life. That want is supplied you now; for I am here—ha-ha!”
“You are no more commonplace than I am; much less now, I'll be bound.”