'Well, my dear, you don't expect ordinary novel-readers to know
about Mr Reardon. I wish my acquaintances were a better kind of
people; then, of course, I should hear of his books more often.
But one has to make the best of such society as offers. If you
and your husband forsake me, I shall feel it a sad loss; I shall
indeed.'
Amy gave a quick glance at the speaker's face.
'Oh, we must be friends just the same,' she said, more naturally
than she had spoken hitherto. 'But don't ask us to come and dine
just now. All through this winter we shall be very busy, both of
us. Indeed, we have decided not to accept any invitations at
all.'
'Then, so long as you let me come here now and then, I must give
in. I promise not to trouble you with any more complaining. But
how you can live such a life I don't know. I consider myself more
of a reader than women generally are, and I should be mortally
offended if anyone called me frivolous; but I must have a good
deal of society. Really and truly, I can't live without it.'
'No?' said Amy, with a smile which meant more than Edith could
interpret.
Pages:
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264