'Won't it be awfully expensive?' said Nelly after a pause, as Bridget did not answer. The younger sister was putting her painting things away, and making ready to go in. For though the day had been wonderfully warm for October, the sun had just set over Bowfell, and the air had grown suddenly chilly.
'Well, I can't help it,' said Bridget, rather roughly. 'I shall have to go.'
Something in her voice made Nelly look at her.
'I say you are tired! Come in and lie down a little. That walk from
Grasmere's too much for you!'
Bridget submitted with most unusual docility.
The sisters entered the house together.
'I'll go upstairs for a little,' said Bridget. 'I shall be all right by supper.' Then, as she slowly mounted the stairs, a rather gaunt and dragged figure in her dress of grey alpaca, she turned to say—
'I met Sir William on the road just now. He passed me in the car, and waved his hand. He called out something—I couldn't hear it.'
'Perhaps to say he would come to supper,' said Nelly, her face brightening. 'I'll go and see what there is.'
Bridget went upstairs. Her small raftered room was invaded by the last stormy light of the autumn evening. The open casement window admitted a cold wind. Bridget shut it, with a shiver. But instead of lying down, she took a chair by the window, absently removed her hat, and sat there thinking. The coppery light from the west illumined her face with its strong discontented lines, and her hands, which were large, but white and shapely—a source indeed of personal pride to their owner.