Again, far below, they heard the summons of humanity.
"Damn Mrs. Wadman! I wish she wouldn't go fooling out in the afternoon."
"Why don't you go down, Maurice? He'll go away in a minute."
Once more, very sharply, the herald demanded an entrance for events and emotions independent of their love, and Maurice unwillingly departed to admit them.
Left alone in a tumult of desires and repressions, Jenny felt she would like to fling herself down upon the rugs and cry. Sentiment, for an instant, helped the cause of tears, when she thought of the many hours spent on that pile, drowsily happy. Then backwards and forwards went the image of her lover in ludicrous movement, and the whole situation seemed such a fuss about nothing. There was a merciless clarity about Jenny's comprehension when, urged by scenes of passion, she called upon her mind for a judgment. Perhaps it was the fatalism of an untrained reason which taught her to grasp the futility of emotional strife. Or it may have been what is called a sense of humor, which always from one point of view must imply a lack of imagination.
Maurice came back and handed her the telegram.
Uncle Stephen died suddenly in Seville come home at once please dear you must go out and look after aunt Ella
Mother
"She's fond of you, isn't she?"
Maurice looked puzzled.