The words jumped out. The moment I had said them I was sorry, and when I saw her poor startled face I could have cried. The slow red rose in her cheeks; we stared into each other’s eyes, and both spoke at the same time. She said:—
“Oh–oh! Can you hear?”
I said:—
“Oh, I’m sorry! I should not have said it. Forgive me! I’m tired and cross after nursing upstairs. I want to quarrel myself. I’m sorry! I’ll keep the children quiet. They will soon be going home. Please always let me know if I’m a bother. I’ll do everything I can!”
She looked at me—a puzzled look—and mumbled cold thanks. This was a case when my apparent years were against me. If I had been Evelyn—a girl like herself—we would have clasped hands and made friends. As it was, she distrusted the elderly woman who showed an impulsiveness foreign to her years. She departed hurriedly, leaving me plunged in fresh woe.
A nice person I am, to blame a man for having a bad temper! I have hurt a sister woman, who has the hardest lot which any woman can have in life—a loveless home!