just the kind of thing I shall be doing myself before long!" exclaimed Lily, starting up with a vehemence of movement that threatened destruction to Miss Farish's fragile tea-table.
Lily bent over to steady the cups; then she sank back into her seat. "I'd forgotten there was no room to dash about in—how beautifully one does have to behave in a small flat! Oh, Gerty, I wasn't meant to be good," she sighed out incoherently.
Gerty lifted an apprehensive look to her pale face, in which the eyes shone with a peculiar sleepless lustre.
"You look horribly tired, Lily; take your tea, and let me give you this cushion to lean against."
Miss Bart accepted the cup of tea, but put back the cushion with an impatient hand.
"Don't give me that! I don't want to lean back—I shall go to sleep if I do."
"Well, why not, dear? I'll be as quiet as a mouse," Gerty urged affectionately.
"No—no; don't be quiet; talk to me—keep me awake! I don't sleep at night, and in the afternoon a dreadful drowsiness creeps over me."
"You don't sleep at night? Since when?"
"I don't know—I can't remember." She rose and put the empty cup on the tea-tray. "Another, and stronger, please; if I don't keep awake now I shall see horrors to-night—perfect horrors!"
