'You are a goose—dare not!' she said. 'And why not? You must let me do as I like. You know I may please myself now about coming here, but because it is so long since I came that you thought I never should again, you are aggrieved because I have. I should not have come but that Mrs. Hennifer called; I cannot endure her. She shall learn to keep away from Old Lafer—no, she must come as usual, oftener if she likes—and she talked about Miss Marlowe. Really Miss Marlowe's affairs don't concern me—and there's a mistake, I'm certain. But if not, what——'
Her voice had been growing hurried and faltering. She now broke off abruptly, and at the same moment, swiftly transferring the parasol from one shoulder to the other, interposed it between Anna and herself. It struck Anna for the first time that she was not her usual self. Could it be possible that she had been mistaken, that she had been drinking? The dreadful fear died at birth, however. She felt convinced that she had not. Something was wrong, though. Whatever else she was, she was never incoherent in speech. What had Mrs. Hennifer and Miss Marlowe to do with her except in the ordinary course of a call and small-talk?—but she was speaking again.
'Really, I don't think I can endure Prissy's flock mattress in this heat, and I am certain this bog smells,' she said, again turning and looking at Anna.
'I am certain it does. Bogs always do under quick evaporation.'
'You are very scientific, as dry as it will be if the heat lasts. Any one coming into this malarious sort of air might soon have a fever.'
Anna's face was momentarily settling into sternness.
'You must sit in the house, Clothilde. Hartas will keep fever out by smoking bad tobacco, drinking gin, and eating onions.'
'I sit upstairs, Anna, and it has always been very cosy. But since I was here they have taken off the thatch and actually slated the roof, and slates attract the sun to a frightful degree.'
'In fact Old Lafer is so much more comfortable that you will return to it,' said Anna in a stifled voice.