After a silence she said:
‘Anything, however slight, that comes between me and Jennifer is important.’
Judith felt herself start to tremble again. Those slow words rang a doom for her; and her spurious advantage was at an end.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said uncertainly, ‘if I have come between you and Jennifer.’
‘Not you,’ she said. (Yes, she was a stupid or a cruel woman.) ‘But I know what people’s mischievous tongues can do, and I wanted to get to the bottom of it before I go away. Just to assure myself that I’m not leaving her to face anything—unpleasant or distressing.’
‘Ah, so you realize how easily she’s influenced.’
That was it then: the woman was afraid. She had given herself away at last: she knew the terrible insecurity of loving Jennifer. Judith felt a quiver of new emotion dart through her: it seemed like a faint pity.
‘I don’t want her bothered,’ said Geraldine aggressively. ‘I loathe this interfering.’
‘You don’t quite understand,’ said Judith in a voice of calm explanation, ‘how much Jennifer means to some people—a lot of people here. They love her. Naturally they resent it a little when somebody else comes in and claims all her attention. They miss her. Isn’t it natural? And then you see, since you’ve been here I believe she’s been getting into awful trouble for neglecting her work. I heard one of them say so a day or two ago—and another one said it was time someone spoke to her or she’d be sent down. So I daresay that’s what happened: somebody tried to give her a sort of warning. Of course it was silly: but then, as you say, girls are silly. It was meant kindly.’ She paused, feeling a kind of faintness, took a deep sighing breath and continued:
‘If my name was brought into it, it was because I have had—I think—a certain amount of influence with Jennifer. She and I were a good deal together at one time. But lately I have been working very hard. They have no business at all....’