night, Catherine, nor you, Lucia. It would be but a hollow mockery."
Aunt Cathie sat silent a moment or two. Then suddenly she mopped her eyes.
"Poor old Elizabeth!" she said. "She doesn't mean half what she says, Lucia, so don't—don't be distressed. And she knows she doesn't mean it, poor Elizabeth. It's awful when you feel you can't help acting in a way you don't really want to. It's the matter with lots of old maids. Get a touch of it myself. Change the subject."
Ah, but how strong a touch of it she hid in those words! The desire of her soul was vastly different to the message of her voice, for she longed, longed that Lucia should just come across to her, and kiss her, or hold her hand, or even only pointedly change the subject, so that Aunt Cathie could see that she changed it in accordance with her wish. Instead, Lucia changed the subject with perfect naturalness, and said she would go to bed also, as it was past ten.
