“No, I thought it looked as if you had been in one of your agonies.”
“And she thought I did it on purpose, and that made me angry, and so we got into a dispute, and away went all the little moment I might have had, and I was forced to go to Cocksmoor as a promise breaker!”
“Don’t you think you had better have taken pains at first?”
“Well, so I did with the sense, but I hadn’t time to look at the writing much.”
“You would have made better speed if you had.”
“Oh, yes, I know I was wrong, but it is a great plague altogether. Really, Margaret, I shan’t get Thucydides done.”
“You must wait a little longer, please, Ethel, for I want to say to you that I am afraid you are doing too much, and that prevents you from doing things well, as you were trying to do last autumn.”
“You are not thinking of my not going to Cocksmoor?” cried Ethel vehemently.
“I want you to consider what is to be done, dear Ethel. You thought, last autumn, a great deal of curing your careless habits, now you seem not to have time to attend. You can do a great deal very fast, I know, but isn’t it a pity to be always in a hurry?”
“It isn’t Cocksmoor that is the reason,” said Ethel.