Part 53 (2/2)

”Isn't there your trunk still to come?” asked Barbara.

”No. You see, I hadn't much to bring--only just one or two things that I got in Rome.”

Alex wondered if Barbara understood that until a few months ago she had been a nun, living the life of a nun. She thought of the apprehension with which she had viewed making an explanation to Barbara, and almost smiled. It appeared that no explanation would be required of her.

But presently Barbara said uneasily:

”It seems extraordinary, your having no luggage like this, Alex. I don't know what Ada will think, I'm sure. I told her that you'd been living abroad for a good many years--I thought that was the best thing to say.

But I never thought of your having no luggage.”

”I hadn't got anything to bring, you see. I must get some things,”

repeated Alex forlornly.

”You see,” said her sister half apologetically, ”Ada's been with me ever since I married. She was Ralph's mother's maid, and perfectly devoted to him. I couldn't ever get that sort of servant to live out here, if it wasn't for that--she waits at meals, and maids me, and does everything, except the actual cooking. I know she's rather disagreeable in her manner, but she's a perfect treasure to me.”

When Ada had brought in the lamps and filled the little room with cheerful light, drawing the blinds and curtains, Barbara looked again hard at her sister.

”Good heavens, Alex, how thin you are! and you look as though you hadn't slept for a month.”

”Oh, but I have,” said Alex eagerly, and then stopped.

She did not feel able to explain to Barbara the insatiable powers of sleep which seemed as though they could never be satisfied, after those ten years of unvarying obedience to a merciless five o'clock bell.

”I am glad to hear it,” Barbara replied in a dissatisfied voice. ”But I never saw any one so changed. Have you been ill?”

”Rather run down,” Alex said hurriedly, with the convent instinct of denying physical ills. ”I had two or three very troublesome abscesses in my throat, just before Easter, and that left me rather weak.”

”My dear, how awful! You never told me. Did you have an operation? Are you scarred?”

”No. They broke of themselves _inside_ my throat, luckily.”

”Oh--don't!” cried Barbara, and shuddered.

The sisters were very silent during tea. Alex saw her sister looking hard at her hands, and became conscious of contrast. Barbara was thin, but her hands were slender and exceedingly white. She wore, besides her wedding-ring, a sapphire one, which Alex thought must have been her engagement-ring. On her wrist was a tiny gold watch, and a gold curb-chain bracelet. Her own hands, Alex now saw, were more than thin.

They were almost emaciated, with knuckles that shone white, and a sharp prominence at each wrist-bone. They were not white, but rough and mottled, with broken skin round each finger-nail. She wondered if her whole person was in as striking a contrast to her sister's. When she had put on the serge skirt and white muslin s.h.i.+rt, the sensation had overwhelmed her, accustomed to the heavy religious habit, of being lightly, almost indecently clad. But Barbara's dress was of soft, silky material, with a low, turned-down collar, such as was just beginning to come into fas.h.i.+on. Her hair was piled into a s.h.i.+ning knot of little, sausage-shaped curls, and parted in front. Though she was only twenty-eight, the grey in Barbara's hair was plentiful, but her small face looked youthful enough, and had none of the hard lines and shadows that Alex knew to lie round her own eyes and lips. Her little, slight figure was very erect, and she wore black suede shoes with sparkling buckles. Alex looked down at her own clumsy, ill-made boots, which had already begun to hurt her feet, and instinctively put up her hands to the cheap black toque, that felt heavy on her head.

”Why don't you take off your hat?” Barbara asked her kindly. ”I am sure it would rest you.”

She was too much used to obedience not to comply instantly, pus.h.i.+ng back with both hands the weight of untidy hair that instantly fell over her eyes.

”Oh, Alex! Your hair!”

”It's growing very fast. I--I've not been cutting it lately. There's just enough to put it up, Barbara.”

”It's much darker than it used to be, isn't it?”

”Yes, it's nearly black now. Do you remember how light the ends used to be? But I think it lost its colour from being always under the veil, you know. The worst of it is that it's not growing evenly, it's all short lengths.”

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