‘Oh, does it?’ said Jerome, ‘I didn’t know that.’
‘Do you think you will like living in England?’ pursued Nita.
‘No, I don’t, under the circumstances.’
She shook her head, and maintained silence. Miss Shuttleworth rose from her chair.
‘I must go,’ she remarked. ‘And do you go in too, Nita, soon. The damp rises from the river in the evening, and you have a thin dress on.’
‘I shall not be long.’
‘I am going to take this book with me. It is a very clever story. Where did you get it?’
‘John brought it me from London. I haven’t read it. I saw a review of it in the ——, which made me think it was stupid.’
Miss Shuttleworth’s lips relaxed into a smile which was sardonic. This was a topic on which she evidently felt strongly.
‘Why do you and John and your father persist in reading reviews?’ she asked, with asperity. ‘The book stupid?—as likely as not it was the reviewer who was stupid. I know them. It is a very clever book, but of course if you read that review of it, it would spoil it for you. I do wish I could cure you of reading reviews. It spoils one’s pleasure so, and does not the least good.’