“Please come down here,” said Mrs. Galilee.
Miss Minerva obeyed. Her face was paler than usual; her eyes had lost something of their piercing brightness. She stopped outside Carmina’s door. Mrs. Gallilee requested her to enter the room.
After an instant—only an instant—of hesitation, Miss Minerva crossed the threshold. She cast one quick glance at Carmina, and lowered her eyes before the look could be returned. Mrs. Gallilee discovered no mute signs of an understanding between them. She turned to the governess.
“Have you been here already this morning?” she inquired.
“No.”
“Is there some coolness between you and my niece?”
“None, madam, that I know of.”
“Then, why don’t you speak to her when you come into the room?”
“Miss Carmina has been ill. I see her resting on the sofa—and I am unwilling to disturb her.”
“Not even by saying good-morning?”