"Yes, it's a dreadful book, full of horrors and misery."
"Then why read it?"
"Because you see, Angel," said the girl letting it drop on to her knee, "I've been living in a false world. Peter says I ought to know something of the life of those less favoured than I am. I expect he's quite right. I haven't known and I haven't cared. If I had," she added, her voice trembling, "things would have been different."
"What things, and how different?"
Sheila was silent, biting her lips. She was trying to keep down the bitter tears remorse was causing. She did not want Angel to know how terribly guilty she felt herself to be. After a moment in which she recovered herself, she said in a low voice:—
"I'm thinking about poor Meg."
"Ah!" said Miss Gregson, a feeling of thankfulness taking possession of her.
"I've been kept in ignorance of things I ought to have known," said the girl bitterly. "Peter says at my age it's disgraceful that I am so ignorant of the sufferings and sorrows of my sisters, as he calls them, and advised me to get hold of some literature on the subject so as to get enlightened. I found this in the library. Why have you never tried to tell me that I was living in a false world?" she demanded.
"My dear, I have tried, but you always—"
"Oh yes, I know," interrupted Sheila, "I wouldn't listen to anything that wasn't pleasant. It isn't your fault, poor Angel. It's because I've been so abominably self-engrossed and selfish." Then after a pause, she added, "If we don't find Meg I don't know what I shall do. I can't sleep at night for thinking of her."