“The two guineas is only the beginning.”
“The beginning of what?”
“Trouble!” said Sophie grimly. “Baths, at a guinea apiece. Massage, half-a-guinea a time. Medicine, liniments, change of air. My dear, it’s no use. What’s the use of paying two guineas to hear a man tell you to do a dozen things which are hopelessly impossible? It’s paying good money only to be aggravated and depressed. If it comes to that, I can prescribe for myself without paying a sou... Knock off all work for a year. Go to Egypt, or some perfectly dry climate, and build up your strength. Always get out of London for the winter months. Live in the fresh air, and avoid fatigue... How’s that? Doesn’t that strike you as admirable advice?”
She put her head on one side with a gallant attempt at a smile, but her lips twitched, and the flare of the incandescent light showed her face lined and drawn with pain. Claire was silent, her heart cramping with pain. The clock ticked on for several minutes, before she asked softly—
“Have you no savings, Sophie? No money to keep you if you did take a rest?”
“Not a sou. It’s all I can do to struggle along. I told you I had to help a young sister, and things run up so quickly, that it doesn’t seem possible to save. I suppose many people would say one ought to be able to do it on a hundred a year; that’s all I have left for myself! Hundreds of women manage on less, but as a rule they come from a different class, and can put up with a style of living which would be intolerable to us. I don’t complain of the pay. I don’t think it is bad as things go: it’s only when illness comes that one looks ahead and feels—frightened! Suppose I broke down now, suppose I broke down in ten years’ time! I should be over forty, and after working hard for twenty years I should be left without a penny piece; thrown on the scrap heap, as a worn-out thing that was no more use. But I might still live on, years upon years. Oh, dear! why did you make me think of it? It does no good; only gives one the hump. There is no Pension scheme, so I simply can’t afford to be ill. That’s the end of it.”
“Don’t you think if you went to Miss Farnborough, and explained to her—”
Sophie turned a flushed, protesting face.
“Never! Not for the world, and you mustn’t either. Promise me faithfully that you will never give so much as a hint. Miss Farnborough is a capital head, but her great consideration is for the pupils; we only count in so far as we are valuable to them. She’d be sorry for me, of course, and would give me quite a lot of advice, but she’d think at once, ‘If she’s rheumatic, she won’t be so capable as a Gym. mistress; I must get some one else!’ No, no, my dear, I must go on, I must fight it out. You’d be surprised to see how I can fight when Miss Farnborough comes on the scene!”
“Very well. You have had your say, now I’m going to have mine! If you go on as you have been doing the last month, growing stiffer week by week, you won’t be able to hide it! The other mistresses talk about it already. They were discussing you in staff-room last week. If you go on trusting to chance, you are simply courting disaster. Now I’ll tell you what I am going to do. I’m going to find out the address of a good specialist, and make an appointment for next Saturday morning. You shan’t have any trouble about it, and I’ll call in a taxi, and take you myself, and bring you safely back. And it will be the wisest and the cheapest two guineas you ever spent in your life. Now! What have you got to say to that?”