She greeted her therefore with a certain challenge.
"What are you keeping away for? Do you suppose we aren't glad to see
you?"
"I'm not keeping away," said Gwenda.
"It looks uncommonly like it. Do you know it's two months since you've
been here?"
"Is it? I've lost count."
"I should think you did lose count!"
"I'm sorry, Molly. I couldn't come."
"You talk as if you had engagements every day in Garthdale."
"If it comes to that, it's months since you've been to us."
"It's different for me. I _have_ engagements. And I've my husband and
children too. Steven hates it if I'm out when he comes home."
"And Papa hates it if _I'm_ out."
"It's no use minding what Papa hates. What's making you so sensitive?"
"Living with him."
"Then for goodness sake get away from him when you can. One afternoon
here can't matter to him."
Gwenda said nothing, neither did she look at her. But she answered her
in her heart. "It matters to _me_. It matters to _me_. How stupid
you are if you don't see how it matters. Yet I'd die rather than you
should see."
Mary went on, exasperated by her sister's silence.
"We may as well have it out while we're about it. Why can't you look
me straight in the face and say plump out what I've done?"
"You've done nothing."
"Well, is it Steven, then? Has he done anything?"
"Of course he hasn't. What _could_ he do?"
"Poor Steven, goodness knows! I'm sure I don't.
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