Part 79 (2/2)

”I don't know. My brain's all woolly and it won't think.”

Laura closed her eyes; a way she had when she faced terror.

”Nina, it was horrible yesterday. I caught myself wis.h.i.+ng----Oh no, I don't; I didn't; I couldn't; it was something else, not me. It couldn't have been me, could it?”

”No, Kiddy, of course it couldn't.”

”I don't know. I feel sometimes as if I could be awful. Yesterday, I did a cruel thing to him. I took his newspaper away from him.”

She stared, agonized, as if her words were being wrenched from her with each turn of a rack.

”I hid it. And he cried, Nina, he cried.”

Her sad eyes fastened on Nina's; they clung, straining at the hope they saw in Nina's pity.

”I can't think how I did it. I couldn't stand it, you know--the rustling.”

”Kiddy,” said Nina, ”you're going to pieces.”

Laura shook her head. ”Oh no. If I could have peace; if I could only have peace, for three days.”

”You must have it. You must go away.”

”How can I go and leave him?”

”Tank's wife would come.”

”Three days.” It seemed as if she were considering it, as if her mind, drowning, s.n.a.t.c.hed at that straw.

She let it go. ”No. It's no use going away. It would make no difference.”

She turned her face from Nina. ”In some ways,” she said, ”it's a good thing I've got Papa to think of.”

Nina was silent. She knew what Laura meant.

x.x.xVIII

They had preserved as by a compact a perpetual silence on the subject of Owen Prothero. But always, after seeing Laura, Nina had forced herself to write to him that he might know she had been true to her trust.

To-night she wrote: ”I have done all I can for you, or, if you like, for Laura. She's at the breaking point. If you think there's anything you can do for her yourself you'd better do it and lose no time.”

She wrote brutally; for mixed with her jealousy there was a savage anger with Owen as the cause of Laura's suffering. She hated the Kiddy, but she couldn't bear to see her suffer.

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