She came a step forward towards him, and the humility which had always been as characteristic of her as her self-centredness and her splendour flooded her and these.
“I don’t want to have any time to myself,” she said. “I haven’t been successful in my use of it since this horrible catastrophe happened. And all my shunning of the war hasn’t enabled me to escape from it. I want to try another plan. I’ve known lately what it means to feel utterly lonely. And there’s another thing.”
She cast down her eyes a moment; then raised them again.
“I have an idea that Robin is ashamed of my doing nothing for the war,” she said. “I only realized that to-night, and I did not like it. Do let me see whether I cannot manage this. If I find I cannot, if I make a muddle of it, I will promise to give it up. But I have had a good many years’ experience in running a big house. I think I could soon learn.”
“If you realize what it means, of course you shall try,” said he. “And as for your being able to do it, I don’t feel the slightest doubt about it. But it will be hard work.”
“That is exactly why I want to do it,” said she.
“I will make the offer, then, to the Red Cross in the morning,” said he. “Now I won’t keep you up longer.”
On his way to the door he paused.
“I wonder if Robin will be more pleased than me?” he said.
She had analysed her reasons for undertaking this work very sincerely. She was willing to be busy all day in order to escape from herself. She could not, for she had tried it without success, escape from the thought of the war, and it was no use persevering in so barren an attempt. She wanted her time taken up by some exigent pursuit, for she had failed to devise for herself any way of spending it that was profitable and yielded dividends of pleasure. That, and the intolerable suspicion that Robin was ashamed of her accounted in completeness for her motive.