Julia could not tell what to think: there was more in it than her puzzled understanding had ever encountered before. After a while she said, with some hesitation, “Miss Summerhayes!” again.
“Yes,” said Janet, looking up once more.
“What did you mean about conversation? I hate you! I shall never speak to you three words if I can help it; but what did you mean about putting off the conversation? I want to know——”
“Perhaps it will be better to put it off till to-morrow.”
“I want to have it now. Conversation! as if there ever could be any between you and me.”
“That is what I have just said. It will be better to put it off,” said Janet, without raising her head, turning over the page of her supposed letter.
The next thing she heard was a stamp on the floor, suppressed so that it was scarcely a stamp, and an exclamation,
“I prefer to have it now.”
“I cannot talk to anyone so far off,” said Janet, and there was another pause.
Presently she could hear the faint rustling of a person about to get up from a chair, which went on for some time, there being an evident and great reluctance to move. Then there was a sudden plunge. Julia alighted opposite her, on the other side of the table.