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Updated: May 5, 2025
Out of hearing of the others, in slowly following them with Verrian, she recurred to their talk. "Yes, it's only a question of money enough for Newport, after this. She's chic now, and after a season there she will be smart. But oh, dear! How came she to be chic? Can you imagine?" Verrian did not feel bound to a categorical answer, and in his private reflections he dealt with another question.
"There's reality in it, whatever it is; it's a genuine motive," Mrs. Verrian conceded. "I think so," Verrian said, in a voice which he tried to keep from sounding too grateful. Apparently his mother did not find it so. She asked, "What had been the matter with her, did she say?" "In her long sickness? Oh! A nervous fever of some sort." "From worrying about that experience?"
Verrian reluctantly admitted, "She said it made her want to die. I don't suppose we can quite realize " "We needn't believe everything she said to realize that she suffered. But girls exaggerate their sufferings. I suppose you told her not to think of it any more?" Verrian gave an odd laugh. "Well, not unconditionally. I tried to give her my point of view.
In the flying instant Verrian saw a colorless face with pinched and sunken eyes under a worn-looking forehead, and a withered mouth whose lips parted feebly. On her part, Miss Macroyd had doubtless already noted that the girl was, with no show of expensiveness, authoritatively well gowned and personally hatted. She stared at her, and said, "What a very hunted and escaping effect."
I don't know but I'll be afraid to go to my room." "Sit down, and I'll go to your room with you when I'm through. I won't be long, now." She tried different gauzes, which she had lying on one of the chairs, and crowned herself with triumph in the applauses of her two spectators, rejoicing with a glee that Verrian found childlike and winning.
I'm glad she has the decency to be ashamed of her behavior." "I'm not defending her. Miss Macroyd knows how to take care of herself." The matter rather dropped for the moment, in which Bushwick filled a pipe he took from his pocket and lighted it. After the first few whiffs he took it from his mouth, and, with a droll look across at Verrian, said, "Who was your fair friend?"
Verrian asked himself, as he watched her twittering back at those girls, and shedding equally their thanks and praises from her impermeable plumage, how she would have behaved if Miss Shirley's attempt had been an entire failure. He decided that she would have ignored the failure with the same impersonality as that with which she now ignored the success.
They're very tempting. Miss Shirley makes a very good ghost," he suggested. Mrs. Stager would not at first commit herself further than to say in bringing him the butter, "She's just up from a long fit of sickness." She impulsively added, "She ain't hardly strong enough to be doing what she is, I tell her." "I understood she had been ill," Verrian said.
"No one knows as I do how good he is has been, all through." Probably she had not meant to convey any reproach to Verrian by Bushwick's praise, but he felt reproach in it. "It only happened last week. You do wish me happy, don't you? No one knows what a winter I have had till now. Everything seeming to fail " She choked, and did not say more. He said, aimlessly, "I am sorry "
Then she was finally gone, and Verrian had nothing for it but to go up to his room with the book he found he had in his hand and must have had there all the time. If he had read it, the book would not have eased him off to sleep, but he did not even try, to read it. He had no wish to sleep.
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