‘I wish to,’ Adela said with an emphasis she could not help. ‘Do you object to my going?’
He was surprised at her tone.
‘I don’t object. I’ve told you I think you get no good there. But go if you like.’
She said after a silence:
‘I have no other friend in London; and if it were only on account of her kindness to me, I owe her a visit.’
‘All right, don’t talk about it any more; I’m thinking of something.’
The evening wore on. At ten o’clock the servant brought up a jug of beer, which she fetched for Mutimer every night; he said he could not sleep without this sedative. It was always the sign for Adela to go to bed.
She visited Stella in the morning, and found her still suffering. They talked for an hour, then it was time for Adela to hasten homewards, in order to have dinner ready by half-past one. From Stella she had no secret, save the one which she did her best to make a secret even to herself; she spoke freely of her mode of life, though without comment. Stella made no comments in her replies.
‘And you cannot have lunch with me?’ she asked when her friend rose.
‘I cannot; dear.’