In truth, she cared not at all what he
talked to her about; she was occupied with her own thoughts of him, and
just to sit in the room with him, and to look at him occasionally, was
sufficient. But for once his words had pained her. It was because she could
not understand that he did not care to talk to her. Why did she not
understand? It was hard for a little girl like her to understand such
things as he spoke about; but she would understand; and then her thoughts
passed into words, and she said--
'I understand quite as well as Julia. She, knows the names of more books
than I, and she is very clever at pretending that she knows more than she
does.'
At that moment Mrs. Bentley entered. She saw that Emily was enjoying her
talk with her cousin, and tried to withdraw. But Hubert told her that he
had written the last act; she pretended to be looking for a book, and then
for some work which she said had dropped out of her basket.
'If Emily would only continue the talking,' she thought, 'I should be able
to get away.' But Emily said not a word. She sat as if frozen in her chair;
and at length Mrs. Bentley was obliged to enter, however cursorily, into
the conversation.
'If you have written out _The Gipsy_ from end to end, I should advise you
to produce it without further delay.
Pages:
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179