“D’you mean?—what do you mean, Anita? Are you hinting——?”
Anita looked at her in a puzzled way that relieved me, I hardly knew why.
“Why, only that it carries out my theory—of Carey as a refuge.”
“From what?”
“Life—frustration—what did you think I meant?”
“I don’t know. Nothing. It was my evil mind, I suppose.” She flushed.
“How she harps on the child!” the Baxter girl carried it on.
“That’s a mere simile——” said Miss Howe swiftly.
“But a queer simile!”
“The marriage was sudden,” said Mr. Flood from the floor in his silky voice. “Anita’s theory has its points.”