THE OLD MAID
And now—how can it possibly be right? You simply can’t!” Delia incoherently cried.
“Oh—people!” said Charlotte Lovell wearily.
Her married cousin looked at her with a start. Something thrilled in her voice that Delia had never heard in it, or in any other human voice, before. Its echo seemed to set their familiar world rocking, and the Axminster carpet actually heaved under Delia’s shrinking slippers.
Charlotte Lovell stood staring ahead of her with strained lids. In the pale brown of her eyes Delia noticed the green specks that floated there when she was angry or excited.
“Charlotte—where on earth have you come from?” she questioned, drawing the girl down to the sofa.
“Come from?”
[ 27 ]
