“Who is it wishes to speak to me? I would prefer to see no one; I am not very well.”
But when Nona had given her name in response, Barbara immediately opened her door.
“Come in, do, Nona, I am so glad to see you. I have been thinking that I would send word for you to come to me, only I was afraid that I might interfere with your work.”
Barbara spoke in the quick fashion characteristic of her. Tonight, however, there was something unusual in her manner, a kind of suppressed nervousness. Now, before Nona could reply to her, she began walking up and down the tiny room.
It was not dark, yet the early dusk had fallen. So Nona could see that Barbara really did look ill. She was extremely pale and her big dark-blue eyes revealed unaccustomed shadows beneath them.
So, instantly Nona made up her mind that her own disagreeable information must wait until a serener hour.
“Of course you should have sent for me, Barbara. But suppose, if you are not well, you lie down and then tell me what is the matter afterwards.”
Impatiently Barbara shook her head.
“Oh, I am not ill, at least not in the way you think. I only told that story in order to keep anyone from coming in whom I did not wish to see. Then I was afraid that it might be either Mildred or Gene, and I did not even wish to see them. I did not really wish to see anyone except you, Nona.”
Barbara was talking in a somewhat incoherent fashion, but Nona did not attempt to interrupt her nor to ask for an explanation.