"But really I'm getting well here fast. I'm
very strong again. It is so restful, and one's days go by so quietly."
"Yet, I'm not sure that it's rest you want. I don't think it is. You want
tonics--men and women and things. Monte Carlo would do you a world of
good--I'd go with you. Eglington gambles here"--she watched Hylda
closely--"why shouldn't you gamble there?"
"Eglington gambles?" Hylda's face took on a frightened look, then it
cleared again, and she smiled. "Oh, of course, with international
affairs, you mean. Well, I must stay here and be the croupier."
"Nonsense! Eglington is his own croupier. Besides, he is so much in
London, and you so much here. You sit with the distaff; he throws the
dice."
Hylda's lips tightened a little. Her own inner life, what Eglington was
to her or she to Eglington, was for the ears of no human being, however
friendly. She had seen little of him of late, but in one sense that had
been a relief, though she would have done anything to make that feeling
impossible. His rather precise courtesy and consideration, when he was
with her, emphasised the distance between "the first fine careless
rapture" and this grey quiet.
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