“Ah well, yes, and then the queer thing is that he was really only the friend of my real friend. And it was my real friend who told me about it and gave me a message he sent me and didn’t like it, of course. Naturally.”
“Well really, Miriam,” said Miss Haddie, blushing, with a little laugh half choked by a cough.
“Oh yes, then of course one meets people—at dances. It’s appalling.”
“I wish I understood ye, my dear.”
“Oh well, it doesn’t make any difference now. I shall hardly ever meet anybody now.”
Miss Haddie pondered over the table with features that worked slightly as she made little murmuring sounds. “Eh no. Ye needn’t think that. Ye shouldn’t think like that.... Things happen sometimes ... just when ye least expect it.”
“Not to me.”
“Oh, things will happen to ye—never fear.... Now, my dear child, trot along with ye off to bed.”
Miriam braced herself against Miss Haddie’s gentle shaking of her shoulders and the quiet kiss on her forehead that followed it.