“You must be good enough to remember,” she said, “that I can scarcely have other motives than those of kindness.”
A woman is so conscious of the weak links in her chain of argument, that she usually examines them publicly.
“I do remember that,” replied Eve, rather softened by the grey loneliness of this woman’s life--a loneliness which seemed to be sitting on all the empty chairs--“and I am very grateful to you. I think, perhaps, my uncle misunderstood you. But--”
“Yes--but--”
“Under the circumstances, I think it will be wiser for me to accept his kind offer, and make my home with him. I hope to be able to find some work which will enable me to--to help somewhat towards the household expenses.”
Mrs. Harrington shrugged her shoulders.
“As you like,” she said. “After a few months of a governess’s life perhaps you may reconsider your decision. I know--”
She was going to say that she knew what it was, but she recollected herself in time.
“I know,” she said instead, “girls who have lived such lives.”
With the air of Spain Eve Challoner seemed to have inhaled some of the Spanish pride, which is as a stone wall against which charity and pity may alike beat in vain. From her superior height the girl looked down on the keen-faced little woman.