Little scraps of their talk came over to her and amused her: "strips of flannel," "had to keep her bed for a week, and mother took her guava jelly every day." Regina guessed that Everest was being entertained with an account of some of Stossop's sick poor.
He glanced her way many times, and she fancied a weary look grew upon his face, as the poor continued very sick, and Miss Marlow's methods of treating their various ailments became more and more detailed. Neither sister allowed the conversation to pause for a moment, and when one showed signs of failing the other took it up with commendable energy. But few things in this world prevented Everest from doing what he wanted to do, and certainly two country girls talking to him was not one of them. He wanted to approach Regina and speak to her, and as he found the sisters would not stop their chatter he rose in the middle of it.
"I want to speak to your sister for a moment," he said merely, and left them, crossing the room to where Regina sat, and drawing an easy-chair close to hers. She looked up, and the same enthusiastic welcome shone in her eyes as on his presentation.
"What were you doing all day?" he asked, letting his eyes rest on the youthful fairness of the throat, where the pearls gleamed in the lamplight. He felt quite confident he would not be bored with the Stossop poor in this quarter.
"I went to church in the morning, which I hate, and which always makes me realise what wretched things all these religions are. Then after lunch I lay for quite a long time in the garden, gazing at the white nimbi in the sky. That helps a little to counteract the effect of the church service. Then I walked to the sea, and visited a rose garden there. It is perfectly beautiful—it has a magic I cannot explain; you must come and see it yourself. I looked over all the roses, and then I sat down and read till the sunset came and disturbed me. I had to look at that, and then I walked home to dress for dinner."
She spoke lightly, easily, her warm, ardent gaze on his face, her soft lips smiling. Her tones were like music. Her way of talking quite different from the heavy, assiduous speechifying of her sisters.
"What were you reading?" he asked, his eyes fixed on the brilliant, changing, responsive countenance.
"I was finishing the Cyclops: it is not a good play, but I have read all Euripides except that, and I wanted to complete him."
She spoke quite simply, and without any affectation or desire to impress him. Things one does oneself rarely seem very great accomplishments to oneself, and Regina had read Greek for so long that a new play seemed no more than a new novel to her.
"Do you read it in the original?" Everest asked, raising the dark arches of his brows, and to the girl, as she met his admiring gaze from under them, it seemed as if he were lifting her heart out of her bosom with them.