Mrs. Falconer was watching her.
"Ah!" she murmured to herself. "It is too late! too late!" She passed her fingers slowly across her brow with a feeling that life had turned ashen, cold, barren."How is Kitty?" she asked quickly. "Well—as always; and stupid."
"She is always kind and good, isn't she? and faithful."
"Kindness is not always interesting, unfortunately; and goodness is dreadful, and her faithfulness bores me to death."
"At least, she was your hostess, Amy." "I lent her my silk stockings or she'd have had to wear cotton ones," exclaimed Amy, laughing. "We're even."
"If you were merely paying for a lodging, you should have gone to the inn."
"There was nobody at the tavern who could wear my silk stockings; and I had spent all my money."
"Don't you expect Kitty to return your visit?
"I certainly do— more's the pity. She has such big feet!" Amy put out her toe and studied it with vixenish satisfaction.
"Aunt Jessica," she observed at length, looking round at her aunt. "You have to work too hard. And I have always been such a care to you. Wouldn't you like to get rid of me?"