“To begin with: I am going away on a visit in a fortnight.”
“Indeed?” said Miss Jennings. “That is so likely: little girls do go away on visits without the permission of their elders. That is the modern tendency, I am well aware, but it has not taken root in this house so far.”
“Mr Durrant has invited me,” said Robina, “and I know father and mother will let me go: I am not a bit afraid on that point. Mr Durrant will manage it.”
“Who is Mr Durrant?”
“He is the Durrant, you know: everyone speaks of him. He is one of the greatest men in England at the present day.”
Miss Jennings stared hard at her niece.
“Up to the present,” she said, “I always did think you were truthful: but I cannot quite believe that the great African explorer, whose thrilling book I could scarcely lay down when once I began to read it, would take any notice of an inconsequent, silly little girl like yourself.”
“Oh, but he has,” said Robina, in a careless tone. “He is very fond of me. I am his little boy’s mother, you know.”
“Robina: don’t open your lips for the remainder of this meal. Lies I will not stand.”
Robina whispered ‘prism’ under her breath, and sat mute with her hands folded. After a time, Miss Jennings asked if she wished for anything more. She shook her head.