“I sometimes wonder——” Miss Howe made me think of Saladin’s cushion in The Talisman. She always went on so softly and imperviously with her own thoughts—“Suppose now, that she’s written herself out, and knows it?”
The Baxter girl gave a little gasp of horrified appreciation.
“So the marriage——”
“An emergency exit.”
But Anita pitied them aloud—
“It shows how little you know Madala, either of you.”
“Does anyone? Do you?”
Anita smiled securely.
“The type’s clear, at least.” Mr. Flood looked round the circle. His eyes shone. “Une grande amoureuse—that I’ve always maintained. Carey may be the first—but he won’t be the last.”
“Is he the first? How did she come to write The Resting-place then? Tell me that!” Anita thrust at him with her forefinger and behind her, in the corner, I saw the gesture duplicated.