“What I really expect,” he said, smiling down at her, “is to be back, feeling more or less of a fool, by eleven o'clock. I'm providing against an emergency that will almost surely never happen, and I am depending on the most trustworthy person I know.”
Very soon after that he went away. She sat for some time after he had gone, fingering the blank white envelope and wondering, a little frightened but very proud of his trust.
Dan came in and went up the stairs. That reminded her of the dinner, and she sat down in the kitchen with a pan of potatoes on her knee. As she pared them she sang. She was still singing when Ellen came back.
Something had happened to Ellen. She stood in the kitchen, her hat still on, drawing her cotton gloves through her fingers and staring at Edith without seeing her.
“You're not sick, are you, Ellen?”
Ellen put down her gloves and slowly took off her hat, still with the absorbed eyes of a sleep-walker.
“I'm not sick,” she said at last. “I've had bad news.”
“Sit down and I'll make you a cup of tea. Then maybe you'll feel like talking about it.”
“I don't want any tea. Do you know that that man Akers has married Lily Cardew?”
“Married her!”