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Greta's afternoon visits were then a real boon; she could leave them together while she went out and did her business. Olivia's healthy, robust constitution always needed fresh air and regular exercise. Confinement to the house tried her, and the small rooms and low ceilings at No. 1, Galvaston Terrace, were certainly rather cramping.
Greta gave my arm a funny little squeeze, and Alwyn cleared his throat and looked at Marcus, and then said in such a serious voice that he had an important proposal to make to us. It was Greta's idea, but he heartily approved of it. The house at Brunswick Place was waiting for a tenant. Why should not Marcus take it? It was to be let furnished.
Greta's nature was a noble one. She had lofty aims and a high sense of duty. In spite of her gentleness she had plenty of firmness and backbone. It was one thing to be sorry for her old friend and playmate, and to show him a sister's tenderness, but quite another to give herself to him, and more than once Olivia had felt uneasy, but delicacy had led her to keep her thoughts to herself.
Poor Olive, what a time you have had; and you are looking so pale and tired." And then Olive poured out her anxieties and past troubles into Greta's sympathising ears. "She is very weak still," she finished. "Dr. Randolph thinks it will be some time before she will be able to leave her bed.
"There is Greta's morning-room on the first floor, it is such a large, cheerful room, with a bay-window overlooking the nice, old-fashioned garden, where you could lie and look out on the trees and flowers; here you see nothing but the four walls.
Christian saw that Harz had disappeared, but suddenly he came back breathless, and took his place at the end of the rank of givers. Advancing on tiptoe, he put his present into Greta's hands. It was a small bronze copy of a Donatello statue. "Oh, Herr Harz!" cried Greta; "I saw it in the studio that day. It stood on the table, and it is lovely." Mrs.
Broderick's cheerfulness and quaint speeches, and Aunt Madge, in her turn, had declared herself fascinated by Greta's gentleness. "She is exactly my idea of a young English gentlewoman," she had said after her first visit. "I thought the article had gone out of fashion.
Two months? Fancy! You are not English? You are Tyrolese? But you speak English so well there for seven years? Really? So fortunate! It is Greta's day for English."
And it broke, it broke, it broke my heart it broke my heart!" "Cork up in there!" shouted the policeman from the seat beside the driver. The old woman became abruptly silent. Hilda moaned and quivered. Her lips moved. She was murmuring, "I can't stand it much longer I can't. I'll wake soon and see Aunt Greta's picture looking down at me from the wall and hear mother in the kitchen "
His voice died wistfully, and his glance, sweeping her face, rested on her hands, which held and twisted Greta's letter. After a minute or two of silence he boomed out again with sudden energy: "Your aunt'll want to come and sit with me, after dinner; don't let her, Chris, I can't stand it.
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