‘You cannot blame me more than I deserve,’ said Lily. ‘May I go to poor Claude?’
‘I suppose so; but I do not see what good you are to do. Quiet is the only thing for him.’
Lily, however, went, and Claude gave her to understand that he liked her to stay with him. She arranged his blinds and curtains comfortably, and then sat down to watch him. William went to the drawing-room to write a letter. Just as he had sat down he heard a strange noise, a sound of sobbing, which seemed to come from the corner where the library steps stood. Looking behind them, he beheld Phyllis curled up, her head on her knees, crying bitterly.
‘You there! Come out. What is the matter now?’
‘I am so very sorry,’ sighed she.
‘Well, leave off crying.’ She would willingly have obeyed, but her sobs were beyond her own control; and he went on, ‘If you are sorry, there is no more to be said. I hope it will be a lesson to you another time. You are quite old enough to have more consideration for other people.’
‘I am very sorry,’ again said Phyllis, in a mournful note.
‘Be sorry, only do not roar. You make that noise from habit, I am convinced, and you may break yourself off it if you choose.’
Phyllis crept out of the room, and in a few minutes more the door was softly opened by Emily, returning from her walk.
‘I thought Claude was here. Is he gone to bed? Is his head worse?’