Lady
Maria occasionally made jokes. Here was a girl who understood them.
To the old gentlewoman, who never beat about bushes, but mostly walked
through them, Sanchia's bluntness made immediate appeal. Her reply, for
instance, to the enquiry, What had induced her to go on with the affair,
was a counter-question. "What else could I do?" she had asked, with
pencilled brows arched. "I thought it made no difference. I wanted to, you
see. What you do is nothing compared with what you want to do."
"Then why do it, my dear?" said Lady Maria. Sanchia did not blink the
answer, "Nevile wanted me. He was very unhappy."
"Well," said the old woman, "what is he now?" This time Sanchia did not
reply.
Lady Maria drew her lips in until her mouth looked like a dimple in her
face. "Oho! That's it, is it? He's neglected you, and now you don't care?"
"I care for some things very much," said Sanchia. "I want to please Papa,
and Vicky, my sister, you know--and I think I want to put myself right
with the world. But--"
"But you don't care two pins about him?"
Sanchia shook her head sadly. Her brows were arched to her hair. "No," she
said, "I don't care one pin."
Lady Maria was no fool.
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