"That was a nice way to put it. Split!"
"Yes—it looked as if it was sea-anemones, and each of you had split, making four." Miss Upwell then gave a very truthful report of what Miss Bax had told her, neither confounding the persons, nor dividing the substance of her narrative.
When she had finished, Mrs. Aiken began to say, "I suppose——" and underwent a restless pause. Then, as her hostess waited wistfully for more, she went on, "I suppose she said I ought to go back and be a dutiful wife. I'm quite sick and tired of the way people talk."
"She said"—thus Madeline, a little timidly—"that she thought you had acted under a grievous misapprehension. That was what she said—'A grievous misapprehension.'"
"Oh yes!—and I'm to go back and beg pardon. I know.... But that reminds me...." She reined up.
"Reminds you...?" Madeline paused, for her to start again.
"Reminds me that I've never thanked you for the photograph."
"I thought you might like it. I can't tell you how fond I am of the picture, myself. I wanted to get you to be more lenient to the poor girl. It is the loveliest face!"
"Oh, I dare say. But anyhow, it was most kind of you to give it me. Let me see!—what was it reminded me of the photograph? Oh, of course,—Volumnia Bax."
"I was wondering why you said 'reminded.'"