“You were afraid,” he said, “that we shouldn’t keep a place for you—Ellida, and I, and all of us?”
“Perhaps that was all it was,” she dropped her voice to say. He pressed with his arm her hand against his heart.
“Oh,” he said, “it isn’t only the old place we want you to go into. There’s a new one. You’ve heard that I’ve been taking up your character?”
“Ah,” she said; and again she was on the alert in an instant. “I’m to have a situation with you? Who’s the invalid? Peter?” The little dog with the flapping ears was running wide on the turf, scenting the unaccustomed grasses.
“Oh, Peter’s as near speaking as he can ever get,” Grimshaw said.
Katya laughed.
“That would be a solution,” she said, “if you took me on as Peter’s nurse. But who’s your dumb child now? I suppose it’s your friend ... ah! ... Dudley Leicester.”
“You remember,” Grimshaw said, “you used always to say he was like Peter.”
“No; it was you I used to say were like Peter. W ell, what’s the matter with Dudley Leicester? ... at least. No. Don’t tell me. I’ve heard a good deal from Ellida. She’s gone clean mad about his wife.”
“Yes; she’s mad enough about Pauline,” Grimshaw said, “and so would you be.”