The tears started to Sophie’s eyes; she lowered her lids to hide them from sight.
“The girls did not suffer,” she said deeply. “I did the suffering!”
Miss Farnborough moved impatiently. She was intensely practical and matter-of-fact, and with all her heart hated any approach to sentiment.
“You suffered because you were unfit,” she repeated coldly, “and your obvious duty was to come to me. You must have known that under the circumstances I should not have wished you to continue the classes!”
Sophie was silent for a moment, then she said very quietly, very deliberately—
“Yes, I did know; but I also knew that if I could nerve myself to bear the pain and the fatigue, I could train the girls as well as ever, and I knew, too, that if you sent me away in the middle of term you would be less likely to take me back. It means everything to me, you see. What would happen to me if I were permanently invalided—without a pension—at thirty-one?”
“You have been paid a good salary, Miss Blake—an exceptionally good salary—because it is realised that your work is especially wearing. You ought to have saved—”
“If I had had no home claims I might have been able to save one or two hundred pounds—not a very big life provision! As it happens, however, I have given thirty pounds a year towards the education of a young sister, and it has been impossible to save at all.”
“But now, of course, your sister will help you,” Miss Farnborough said, and turned briskly to another topic. “You said that you have been to a specialist? Will you give me his address? I should like to communicate with him direct. You understand, Miss Blake, that if this stiffness continues, it will be impossible for you to continue your duties here?”
“Quite impossible,” faltered Sophie, in low tones.