“Then you can’t really care for them enough to succeed,” he said. This struck Teresa a blow. “Don’t you ever forget your farms and things?” she asked, “not for a minute?”
“No, except when I’m asleep or hunting.”
“Hunting! my hunting is done down there,” she said illogically.
“Then where are your farms?”
“Oh, blow!” said Teresa.
“All right. Well, when will you come back here?”
“When I can’t bear any more committees of the charitable. I wish you could see Mrs. Carpenter. Do you remember, she was at the Gainsboroughs the night you were there?”
“Was she? I forget. What like?”
“Like an hour glass, in pink—with the sand quite solid.”
“I didn’t notice. I couldn’t make your Miss Gainsborough talk, that’s all I know. Is there anything the matter with her?”