To the North Read Free Page B

knee of her skirt: this appeared to absorb her. Her faculty for idleness was remarkable; Lady Waters thought she must be anaemic.
    “Cecilia,” their relation continued, “never seems to be happy when she is not in a train—unless, of course, she is motoring.”
    “It depends rather where she is going.”
    “She goes where she likes: it’s neurosis. I’m really anxious about her.”
    “I often wish she would fly.”
    “She would arrive too quickly,” said Lady Waters. “Also, I understand that one cannot talk in an aeroplane. I really dread these journeys; she picks up the oddest acquaintances.”
    “Yes,” agreed Emmeline.
    Though Lady Waters spoke of her niece with severity and deplored her behaviour to everyone, her real feeling for Cecilia was of the warmest: she liked her a good deal better than she liked Emmeline. Heart-to-hearts with Emmeline often proved unrewarding; Cecilia was better value, more generous, less recessive; Lady Waters had known her from childhood, had successfully married her once and hoped to do so again. So that she was accustomed to speak of Emmeline far more guardedly, merely saying that that glacial manner was unfortunate in a girl, and that Emmeline kept her intelligence for the office. Henry Summers, however, had had his weaknesses; it was always possible Emmeline might run deep.
    Drawing up her black moiré skirt and approaching one foot to the fire, Lady Waters glanced thoughtfully round the room. “You have made it all look very bright,” she said, “I hope Cecilia will notice. Do you really expect her? Has she wired to say she is coming?”
    “She hasn’t wired to say she is not.”
    “So you stayed at home to welcome her. That is really good of you, Emmeline; I know how you value your working time. I do hope she will not disappoint you. When did you hear from her last?”
    Emmeline, wondering how to get Lady Waters out of the house before Cecilia—at any moment—arrived, looked up anxiously at the clock. Her movement was not unobserved; Lady Waters warned her at once against tension. The only way with Cecilia was absolute calmness: Henry had always found that: it was Georgina’s own way; Cecilia and she got on perfectly.
    “And—I know, Emmeline, you won’t mind my suggesting —you must not let Cecilia dominate you. In an unconscious and very sweet way, she is very pervasive. You and I who love her can say so between ourselves: she has a strong personality. For you who are younger and much more unformed that must often be difficult. In a way, I am like that myself: I have a strong personality; I need the strongest self-discipline. Marriage makes one look into oneself …” She paused.
    “I expect it does,” agreed Emmeline.
    “Now Cecilia, tragically, never had time for the discipline stage in marriage; her marriage was all like a dream. I feel sometimes it simply enlarged her egotism. While with you— as, of course, in a sense, with poor Henry also—”
    “—Will you stay to tea?” put in Emmeline.
    “No, I must be going on to the nursing-home. I am glad to have had this talk alone with you, Emmeline, we so seldom meet. You do understand what I mean? It has been so much in my mind.”
    “Absolutely,” said Emmeline.
    “You are clear-sighted,” said Lady Waters, patting Emmeline’s knee.
    “You really can’t stay to tea?”
    “No, thank you; I simply looked in to see if you were expecting Cecilia, and cheer you up just a little in case she had changed her plans. I rang you up twice this morning but there was no answer: perhaps you had better speak to the maids? Cecilia so hates to have messages overlooked. But I am glad to have had a word with you: one cannot say much on the telephone. You will think over our little talk?”
    “Oh, yes, Georgina… . Yes.”
    “And I brought a few tulips, to give Cecilia a welcome.”
    “How very kind,” said Emmeline, looking round for the tulips.
    “However (thinking she might have put off) I left them