"Yes, Tild—and I shan't be sorry except to be parted from you—but I daresay I shall be able to come and see you now and then."
Matilda looked tearful.
"You never were one of us, Katherine."
"No, I know I never was. I often have wondered what accident pitchforked me in among you, always the discordant note and the wet blanket. I hark back to someone, I suppose—I've always determined to get out, when I was ready."
"You never did care for us—never, Kitten."
Katherine Bush remained quite unmoved.
"No, never for the others—but always for you, Tild—and I'll never forget you, dear. There, don't be a donkey and cry—the people at the next table are looking at you."
This argument she knew would calm her sister—who was intensely sensitive to everyone's opinion.
"And supposing they don't take you?" Matilda suggested, in a still quavering voice, "and you've given notice to Liv and Dev—I call it awfully risky."
"Then I will look out for something else—I am determined to make a change, and see a new world, whatever happens."