"What was that?"
"That I felt that it was time for her to earn her own living." Then as Sheila saw a strange expression pass across Peter's face she hastened to say, "I gave her a whole month in which to find work, and you can't accuse me of not doing all I could to train her to support herself. I don't see, Peter, why you should look like that."
"Were you tired of your plaything?" he asked quietly.
"Dreadfully," said Sheila. "You know, Peter, that I have always told you that some people get on my nerves and Meg is one of them. I see you think me horrid but I can't help it."
She was looking at her cousin eagerly, not understanding his expression of face, and hoping that he would not judge her harshly. His extreme quiet deceived her; perhaps he did not think so badly of her as she feared.
"And you told her to go?"
"In a month's time," said Sheila, breathing a little quickly, for Peter was looking at her so strangely. All the softness had gone out of his face. She felt she was standing before a judge, instead of talking to one of whom she had always imagined she could turn round her little finger.
At her answer he moved away towards the window.
Sheila followed him laying a hand on his arm.
"Do you think me quite horrid?" she asked.