Mildred Caniper opened her remarkably blue eyes, and said, almost in triumph, "You'll be disappointed."
At that Helen laughed with a security which was pathetic and annoying to the woman in the bed.
"Life—" Mildred Caniper began, and stopped. She had not yet reached the stage, she reflected, when she must utter platitudes about the common lot. She looked at Helen with unusual candour. "I have never spoken to you of these things," she said.
"Oh, I shouldn't like you to!" Helen cried, and her hands were near her ears.
Mildred allowed her lips to curve. "I am not referring to the facts of generation," she said drily, and her smile broadened, her eyebrows lifted humorously. "I am quite aware that the—the advantages of a country life include an early arrival at that kind of knowledge. Besides, you were fortunate in your brothers. And then there were all the books."
"The books?"
"The ones Rupert used to bring you."
"So you knew about them."
"I have had to remind you before, Helen, that I am not out of my mind."
"What else do you know?" Helen asked with interest, and sat down on the bed.