"She's very queer—very odd. I don't pretend to understand her."
"We're all queer just now," said John. "Down at the club to-day it was too awful. No other subject—fellows killed, fellows going out to be killed. Blunder, blame, disgrace—all the time. But what's Rachel been doing odd?"
"You understand her better than I do," said his sister. "She always liked you better. I did my best with her, but she never cared about me. But now I understand her less than ever. She's so excited and hard and unnatural. Something's happened to her that we don't know about, I'm sure."
John said nothing. He was unhappy enough about Rachel, but he did not intend to talk to Adela about it. He would rather not talk to anyone about it because talking only brought it more actually in front of him. Besides, he did not know what to say. He knew that he had been cowardly about Rachel. He had tried to pretend to himself that she was happy when he had known that she was not and so, for the sake of his comfort, he had stifled the most genuine emotion in his life; that indeed was the Beaminster habit.
"She's not happy," continued Adela. "I'm sure I don't know why—Roddy's very good to her—very good. She's so queer. She wants to have Miss Rand down with her at Seddon for Christmas."
"Miss Rand?"
"Yes—she asked me whether I'd let her go. She's got to give a dance and a dinner-party or two and asked me whether she might have her help. Of course I said 'Yes.' Miss Rand hasn't been looking at all well for some time now. A change will do her good."
"What did Miss Rand say when you told her?"
"Oh, she was odd. She has been odd lately. At first she thought she wouldn't go. Then she said she would. I told her it would do her good."
"How's mother been the last two days?"