Lilian slept heavily and without moving, and when the parlourmaid aroused her with more tea at nine o’clock according to order, she drank half the first cup before the process of waking was complete. Her mind had been running jerkily:
"So she actually went all that way to see his grave. And I haven’t seen the stone myself. Of course Felix wrote to her when he was getting better, and told her he was going to marry me. That’s how she must have first known I was out there with him. He wrote on purpose to tell her. And she went all that way to see my darling’s grave, and never said a word to me! It’s her feeling for Felix makes her so cruel, poor thing! Oh! But she’s so hard, _hard_! Well, I could never be hard like that--I don’t care what happened. And it won’t make her any happier."
"Oh yes, I know what that is," said Lilian. "Just cut the string and put it down here, will you?"
"Miss Jackson is waiting to see you’m. Will you see her or shall I ask her to call to-night?"
"Miss Jackson!" Lilian exclaimed, agitated by the swiftness of the sequence of events. "Has she been waiting long?"
"I thought you ought to have your tea quiet’m."
"How nice of you!" said Lilian, with a weak, acquiescent smile. "But do ask her to come in here now. She won’t mind me being in bed, will she?"
"I should hope not’m," said the parlourmaid, pawing the ground.
Lilian pushed her lustreless hair out of her eyes. The sun was shining on part of the tumbled bed. Then Gertie Jackson came in. Absolutely unchanged! The same neat, provincial, Islingtonian toilette. The same serious, cheerful, ingenuous gaze. The same unmarred complexion. The same upright pose and throwing back of the shoulders in unconscious rectitude and calm intention to front courageously the difficulties of the day. The same mingling of self-respect and deference. She bent over the bed; Lilian held up her face like a child with mute invitation, and Gertie kissed her. What a fresh, honest, innocent, ignorant kiss on Lilian’s hot, wasted, experienced cheek!
"You poor thing!" Gertrude murmured devotedly.
"I’m seven months gone nearly," Lilian murmured, as if in despair.
"Well, it’ll soon be over, then!" said Gertie buoyantly, in a matter-of-fact tone.