Читать книгу Wintersmoon онлайн

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She got up.

"We must be friends," she said, smiling. "There are many things that will be difficult for me at first. I do hope you will help me sometimes."

Miss Marsh got up awkwardly, nervously pushing at her pince-nez.

"That's very kind of you, Miss Grandison. Of course if I can be of any assistance to you in any way——"

Mr. Pomeroy appeared, very elegant, very urbane. He had friends whom he wished to introduce, and then there were others. But people were leaving. Soon, ah soon, she would be able to escape. Wildherne found her, and together they moved into the next room.

Together Rosalind and she were in a cab. She was so tired that life—her life, all life, any life—jumped up and down before her like a Jack-in-the-Box. Rosalind said not a word.

They were in their little sitting-room. As Janet turned towards her bedroom Rosalind cried:

"Janet, how awful!"

Janet stayed. "Awful! What do you mean?"

"This evening—the people—everything."

"Oh, don't now, Rosalind. I'm too tired to listen. Make your clever criticisms in the morning."