She was, however, nimble-witted, and could contrive for her own purposes. She could stoop to pick up a fallen glove: she could search the carpet for something else which was not there. By these means she learnt that there was no longer a quartet assembled in a central part of the room; that Maud and Sybil had resumed occupations in distant corners, leaving the visitor to Sue; and that Sue—she longed to look at Sue, but refrained.
Sue sat on in her large armchair, with her back to the light. Her companion's hand rested on the back of the chair.
Seen from Leo's standpoint, the bent shoulders and thin neck were aggressively apparent against the light—for a pale winter sunset lit up the sky without, and the two figures were silhouetted sharply—but Sue? what did Sue see?
Apparently what satisfied her, what transformed the world around her.
For Leo, rising at last, as all rose, and drawing near with a curiosity which had also in it a great and passionate envy, beheld upon her sister's face the look which she sought, the look which she was never to forget. Again her heart cried out, and would not be silenced: "I have lost something that I never had!"
CHAPTER VIII.
A CAT AND MOUSE GAME.
We will now pass over a period of deadly dulness and unvarying monotony at Boldero Abbey.
Such periods were normal there to all but Leonore. Her sisters frittered away the hours in small pursuits which led to nothing, (if we except a certain kindly care of the poor on the estate, whose interests Sue at least found of importance)—otherwise they existed, and that is all that could be said for them.