Just then an arm was passed round her waist, and the same caressing voice whispered, this time in her ear, the same word—
“Darling!”
Lettice did not speak, but she leant for a moment against her sister in a more clinging way than was usual with her.
“Nina,” she said wearily.
“Yes, dear,” said Nina. She was always very proud, poor girl, when Lettice seemed to turn to her for support or sympathy.
“It’s so miserable, isn’t it?”
“Yes, dear,” said Nina again. She would dearly have liked to add some words of comfort, but she did not know what to say. It was true. It was very miserable!
“Why should we be so unhappy?” Lettice went on. “Why should such troubles come to us; other people go on living happy peaceful lives, without these dreadful earthquakes of trouble? And we have only her.”
“I know,” said Nina softly.
“And, as things are, we can’t even wish it to go on, can we?” said Lettice, unconsciously raising her voice a little, as she spoke more energetically. “She suffers more and more, and—do you know, Nina?” She hesitated.