"I am sorry," said that poor woman, who did not wish to hurt her. "I was not thinking of you, I was thinking of Margaret."
"Every one is always thinking of Margaret," went on Grace, in a fretful tone. "It is the most extraordinary thing, it is always the same thing—it is always Margaret."
"Rest now, and we can talk by-and-by," said Mrs. Dorriman. "I have much to do; and about you, Grace, have you any plans?"
"Have I any plans?" asked Grace, opening her eyes in deepest astonishment. "Why, as soon as I can move, of course, I am to go to live with Margaret—a lovely villa with trees and things, close to London!"
"Oh, then that is settled," said Mrs. Dorriman, very much relieved. "I did not know; it will be nice for you to be together."
"Yes, it will be nice," said Grace, excitedly. "If you knew how I long to go away and see the world."
"Poor child!"
"Now, Mrs. Dorriman, there you are as doleful as you can be again. I wish you would not——"
"Would not do what?"
"Speak as if I were never to be well again," and Grace, feeble and weak, burst into a violent flood of tears.