“You are ill,” said Leslie. “I ought not to leave you. You ought to lie down and see a doctor. Do let me go and tell Miss Frere. I know your being ill will make all the difference.”
Leslie had scarcely finished her sentence before Annie pushed her away.
“How dare you interfere?” she said, her eyes flashing. “You are to go, and say nothing about me. Because you happen to be my roomfellow, are you to control my actions? I am longing for you to leave the room. You don’t know what a trial it is for me to have you here. Why will you keep on prying, and fussing, and interfering. I want to be alone—go!”
“I know you don’t quite mean what you say,” said Leslie; “but of course if you really wish me——”
“Before you came I had liberty,” interrupted Annie. “You fret me beyond endurance. Since you came I feel myself tied and bound. Yes; you annoy me more than words can tell.”
Leslie walked to her own side of the room. She had taken a deep interest in Annie; and Annie’s words cut her to the heart.
“I am quite sure it is because she is so unhappy,” she thought. “She does not know what she is saying. I ought not to mind her—I mean I ought not to be really hurt; but there is nothing for it but to leave her for the present.”
Wrapping a pretty blue shawl round her head and shoulders, she turned to Annie. “Good-by,” she said; “is there not any message you would like me to take, Annie?”
“None; only go!”
Annie stamped with her foot.