“Always awake. Are you always awake?” said Cicely, returning to the fire.
“I? What an idea!”
“I don’t know; you look like it.”
“I must look very tired, then?”
“You do.”
“Fortunately you do not,” answered Eve, coldly. For there was something singularly fresh about Cicely; though she had no color, she always looked fair and perfectly rested, as though she had just risen from a refreshing sleep. “I suppose you have never felt tired, really tired, in all your life?” Eve went on.
“N—no; I don’t know that I have ever felt tired, exactly,” Cicely answered, emphasizing slightly the word “tired.”
“You have always had so many servants to do everything for you,” Eve responded, explaining herself a little.
“We haven’t many now; only four. And they help in the fields whenever they can—all except Dilsey, who stays with Jack.”
Again the name. Eve felt that she must overcome her dread of it. “Jack is very like his father,” she said, loudly and decidedly.