“Even that might be interesting if there were not such a lot of cross, catty women about,” I thought, and was indiscreet enough to say something of the kind. Judy immediately fell upon me with a dagger.
“I always think it such a pity when girls don’t like other women,” she said, in a stuffy little voice. “It seems to me there is something lacking in a nature like that.”
“I do like other women, Judy, but I don’t think those who were here to-night liked me much. They made me feel like a newly arrived favourite in a harem.”
It was rather a rude thing to say, but really they had been very annoying, and Judy as much as any of them. She answered me in an extremely bored voice.
“You mustn’t fall into the mistake that women are jealous of you simply because they take an interest in your appearance, dear.”
“Oh, I don’t,” I said wearily. “I am quite used to having an interest taken in my appearance.”
This annoyed her very much, so she pretended not to hear, and continued:
“It would be rather absurd if you did, here, for all the Salisbury women are by way of being good looking, and really, dear, you are not looking your best. Of course, I know you must be very tired.”
Tired! After a journey of fourteen days and nights and adventures enough to turn my hair white! After being nearly drowned in rivers and nearly eaten by lions, and getting blisters on my heels and mosquito bites on my hands, and grass-ticks all over me, and being left alone on the veldt all night with tigers and hyenas! Tired!
I thought of all my sufferings and my weariness, my ruined complexion, the sunburn on my nose and the blister on my heel, and I could openly and frankly have howled aloud. But I saw that the expression on Judy’s face was neither of sympathy nor of sorrow. By an effort I controlled myself, and began to take my coat and hat and veil and things off. As I could see no pegs anywhere I hung them up on the floor, and as calmly as possible but very firmly I said: