"Good gracious, child, what do you mean? What things you do say? I am tired, as it happens—but not of Paul. I have been standing for hours trying on dresses, and I am not such a walker as you at any time. You are forever going out. One would have thought you would be glad of a companion."
"I might be glad of a companion—but not of Paul," retorted Leo, mimicking. "He is your Paul, not mine, and I—and we——" her lips trembled and framed no more.
"You might oblige me, I think,"—but Sue touched the speaker's arm, and Leo vanished.
"What is it?" demanded Maud, irritably. "That child is quite spoilt of late. It's since her London visit, I think. She never was like that before."
"Sometimes I think, I fancy she is not quite well." Sue gathered up some papers on the table, and proceeded. "You know what Dr. Craig said? That she was in a morbid state, artificially excited or depressed, her mind preying upon itself. He said she must be taken where her natural impulses would have freer vent——"
"Well, well; we all know what he said; you told us at the time."
"I thought she was cured, but it seems not," said Sue, in a low voice. "And your engagement has somehow——"
"If it's that, of course—but do you think it really is that?" said Maud, not without a touch of complacency. "If it is that, of course I am sorry. But at first she seemed as pleased as anybody. It was only after she saw Paul—and one would have thought that Paul—I can't understand why any one should dislike Paul."
Sue was silent.
"Paul has not offended her, has he? Has she ever said so?"