Part 89 (2/2)
”I b'lieve I love him: reely I do. Don't laugh.”
”Why should I?”
”There was nothing in it--don't run away thinking there was--but how could there be, 'im so great and n.o.ble and famous, and me--”
Increasing weakness would not suffer Miss Nippett to finish the sentence.
Mavis forced her to take some nourishment, after which, Miss Nippett lay back on her pillow, with her eyes fixed on the clock. Mavis sat in the chair by the bedside. Now and again, her eyes would seek the timepiece. Whenever she heard a sound downstairs (for some time the people of the house could be heard moving about), Miss Nippett would listen intently and then look wistfully at Mavis.
The girl divined how heartfully the dying woman hungered for Mr Poulter's coming.
Thrice Mavis offered to seek him out, but on each occasion Miss Nippett's terrified pleadings not to be left alone constrained her to stay.
It wanted a few minutes to eight when Miss Nippett fell into a peaceful doze. Mavis took this opportunity of making herself a much-needed cup of tea. Whilst she was gratefully sipping it, Miss Nippett suddenly awoke to say:
”There! There's something I always meant to do.”
”Never mind now,” said Mavis soothingly.
”But I do. It is something to mind about--I never stood 'Turpsichor' a noo coat of paint.”
”Don't worry about it.”
”I always promised I would, but kep' putting it off an' off, an' now she'll never get it from me. Poor old 'Turpsichor'!”
Miss Nippett soon forgot her neglect of ”Turpsichor” and fell into a further doze.
When she next awoke, she asked:
”Would you mind drawing them curtains?”
”Like that?”
”You are good to me: reely you are.”
”Nonsense!”
”But then you ought to be: you've got a good man to love you an' give you babies.”
”What is it you want?” asked Mavis sadly.
”Can you see the 'Scrubbs'?”
”The prison?”
”Yes, the 'Scrubbs.' Can you see 'em?”
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