And then, the third
morning, Dr. Long insisted on seeing her.
"Humph! Tired, are you? You look it. Tommy is going to Margate
to-morrow. You had better go too."
"Is my mother going?"
"No. Nurse is taking him. It will do him good--and you. Is anything
specific the matter?"
She looked at him and shook her head. "I am tired," she repeated.
"Very well. I'll give you some phosphites--and you had better go for a
walk. You need air."
The old man bustled away, and Brigit, after a few minutes' reflection,
went to her mother's room.
"I am going to town, mother," she began, without preamble, "and in a day
or so I shall join Tommy at Margate. Dr. Long says I had better go,
but--I have some things to see to first."
Lady Kingsmead, who was blackening her eyebrows before her glass,
turned, one eye made up, the other very undressed-looking in its natural
condition.
"But--you'll come back, Brigit? You aren't angry any more?"
"I--I don't know, mother. I--am so tired, I can't think."
Lady Kingsmead took up a letter that lay beside her and handed it to her
daughter. "Read this--dear," she said rather humbly. And Brigit read:
"Dear Tony," it ran, in a curious irregular, downward-trending
hand, "I've been awfully bad again, or I should have written before.
Pages:
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
314
315
316
317
318
319
320
321
322
323
324
325
326
327
328
329
330