“It is obvious,” said Eleanor, “that the great thing in life is to know oneself.”
“That’s the idea,” cried Crispin, thumping the table with his fist. “You’ve got it in one, Nell. And it’s never too late to begin.”
Speechless with indignation, Miss Cloke regarded him.
Then she recovered her face and began to shake with laughter. . . .
Crispin watched her open-mouthed.
At last she pulled herself together and passed to the door.
“Poor . . . old . . . Madge,” she said deliberately.
Crispin swallowed.
“Oh, it’s nothing,” he said. “She’s only rather tired.”
“I’m not surprised,” said Eleanor. “I think I should be—rather tired . . . after five years.”