She was expected to attend two lectures that
morning and the hour for the first had almost arrived. Maggie Oliphant
was coming into the house when Prissie ran past her.
"My dear!" she exclaimed, shocked at the look on Priscilla's face,
"come here; I want to speak to you."
"I can't-- don't stop me."
"But where are you going? Mr. Kenyon has just arrived. I am on my way
to the lecture-hall now."
"It doesn't matter."
"Aren't you coming?"
"No."
This last word reached Miss Oliphant from a distance. Prissie had
already almost reached the gates.
Maggie stood still for a moment, half inclined to follow the excited,
frantic-looking girl, but that queer inertia, which was part of her
complex character, came over her. She shrugged her shoulders, the
interest died out of her face; she walked slowly through the
entrance-hall and down one of the side corridors to the lecture-room.
When the Greek lecture had come to an end Nancy Banister came up and
slipped her hand through Maggie's arm.
"What is the matter, Maggie?" she asked, "you look very white and
tired."
"I have a headache," answered Maggie. "If it does not get better, I
shall send for a carriage and take a drive."
"May I come with you?"
"No, dear Nancy, when I have these bad headaches it is almost
necessary to me to be alone.
Pages:
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255