Angelica was bewildered by this volubility. She saw no point in it, and yet she couldn’t believe that any words spoken in so beautiful a voice, and with so just and well-bred an accent, were mere nonsense. She sat staring at the red-haired lady until she came back to her subject.
"But about Polly. She’s the dearest creature in all the world, but she’s rather peculiar in some ways. She’s—well, exacting. She can’t see—she wants every instant of my time. Of course I’m willing—I’m glad to be with her; but after all, one has one’s own life, and there’s my husband. But if ever I suggest a companion! My dear! We have the most miserable time. She never says a word, but she lets you see....
"But I simply cannot stop in that room all day long. I’m frightfully dependent upon exercise. If I don’t get plenty of it, I go all to pieces. I can’t sit still there hour after hour. I’m terribly sorry about her child, and all that, but really, what is the good in talking and talking about it? It only upsets her. And yet, if you try to talk of anything else, you can see she considers you cruel and unfeeling. She simply broods over the thing. She’s so morbidly sensitive that it’s painful to be with her. And I’m not particularly good with sick people myself. I’m too nervous. My dear, you’ll remember all this, won’t you, and be tactful with the poor soul?"
"When will I see her?"
"That’s the point. You see, it would never do to bring you in as a companion. She says she couldn’t stand a hired companion, when she’s in such a state. She doesn’t seem to understand that I’ve got to have some sort of relief. That’s why I’m paying you out of my own pocket; but it won’t do to let her know. That’s why I’ve given you that little guest-room. I want to tell her you’re the daughter of an old friend, and that you’ve come to visit me—until she gets used to you. Do you see?"
"Yes," said Angelica. "But do you think she’ll believe it?"
"Don’t worry, my dear. I understand Polly. All you’ve got to do is to sit with her and listen to her if she wants to talk. She won’t ask you any questions; she’s too indifferent. That’s really the trouble with the poor girl—she’s so self-centered. She lies there, brooding. Of course, it’s hard for her; but after all, we all have our troubles to bear. Now, to-morrow morning I’ll take you in there and introduce you to her, and you must——”
She stopped abruptly and yawned. It was a disconcerting habit she had, as if her incredibly frivolous mind wore itself down by its own erratic movements.
"Now read, won’t you?" she asked.
Angelica began, took up the book, and plunged into it, concentrating her mind fiercely on the words alone. She had no idea what the book was about; what she read conveyed no impression to her mind. Her sole thought was not to expose herself, not to make mistakes, and of course she did. There came words upon words which she couldn’t pronounce.