with all the privileges pertaining tothe state
"That must have been rather bad!""Yes; but nothing like as bad as being her niece.""That I can well believe. I’m glad to hear," he added,"that you put it all in the past tense."She seemed to droop a little at the allusion; then shelifted her chin with a jerk of defiance. "Yes. All is atan end between us. We’ve just parted in tears–but not insilence!""Just parted? Do you mean to say you’ve been there all thistime?""Ever since you used to come there to see Lady Ulrica? Doesit seem to you so awfully long ago?"The unexpectedness of the thrust–as well as its doubtfultaste–chilled his growing enjoyment of her chatter. He hadreally been getting to like her–had recovered, under thecandid approval of her eye, his usual sense of being apersonable young man, with all the privileges pertaining tothe state, instead of the anonymous rag of humanity he hadfelt himself in the crowd on the pier. It annoyed him, atthat particular moment, to be reminded that naturalness isnot always consonant with taste.
She seemed to guess his thought. "You don’t like my sayingthat you came for Lady Ulrica?" she asked, leaning over thetable to pour herself a second cup of tea.
He liked her quickness, at any rate. "It’s better," helaughed, "than your thinking I came for Mrs. Murrett!""Oh, we never thought anybody came for Mrs. Murrett! It wasalways for something else: the music, or the cook–whenthere was a good one–or the other people; generally ONEof the other people.""I see."She was amusing, and that, in his present mood, was more tohis purpose than the exact shade of her taste. It was odd,too, to discover suddenly that the blurred tapestry of Mrs.
Murrett’s background had all the while been alive and fullof eyes. Now, with a pair of them looking into his, he wasconscious of a queer reversal of perspective.
"Who were the ‘we’? Were you a cloud of witnesses?""There were a good many of us." She smiled. "Let me see–who was there in your time? Mrs. Bolt–and Mademoiselle–andProfessor Didymus and the Polish Countess. Don’t youremember the Polish Countess? She crystal-gazed, and playedaccompaniments, and Mrs. Murrett chucked her because Mrs.
Didymus accused her of hypnotizing the Professor. But ofcourse you don’t remember. We were all invisible to you;but we could see. And we all used to wonder about you—-"Again Darrow felt a redness in the temples. "What aboutme?""Well–whether it was you or she who…"He winced, but hid his disapproval. It made the time passto listen to her.
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