Yes, she would say she
wanted to have this entirely to herself. How obviously sensible if
each of them had their own special place to sit in apart. It was
essential to her comfort that she should be able to be apart, left
alone, not talked to. The others ought to like it best too. Why
herd? One had enough of that in England, with one's relations and
friends--oh, the numbers of them!--pressing on one continually.
Having successfully escaped them for four weeks why continue, and
with persons having no earthly claim on one, to herd?
She lit a cigarette. She began to feel secure. Those two had
gone for a walk. There was no sign of Mrs. Fisher. How very pleasant
this was.
Somebody came out through the glass doors, just as she was
drawing a deep breath of security. Surely it couldn't be Mrs. Fisher,
wanting to sit with her? Mrs. Fisher had her battlements. She ought
to stay on them, having snatched them. It would be too tiresome if she
wouldn't, and wanted not only to have them and her sitting-room but to
establish herself in this garden as well.
No; it wasn't Mrs. Fisher, it was the cook.
She frowned. Was she going to have to go on ordering the food?
Surely one or other of those two waving women would do that now.
The cook, who had been waiting in increasing agitation in the
kitchen, watching the clock getting nearer to lunch--time while she
still was without knowledge of what lunch was to consist of, had gone
at last to Mrs.
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