“Eleanor, be quiet,” plucking at her vivacious companion. “Hush! They’ll hear—the Emersons—”
“I can’t stop. Let me go my wicked way. A porter—”
“Eleanor!”
“I’m sure it’s all right,” put in Lucy. “The Emersons won’t hear, and they wouldn’t mind if they did.”
Miss Lavish did not seem pleased at this.
“Miss Honeychurch listening!” she said rather crossly. “Pouf! Wouf! You naughty girl! Go away!”
“Oh, Lucy, you ought to be with Mr. Eager, I’m sure.”
“I can’t find them now, and I don’t want to either.”
“ Mr. Eager will be offended. It is your party.”
“Please, I’d rather stop here with you.”
“No, I agree,” said Miss Lavish. “It’s like a school feast; the boys have got separated from the girls. Miss Lucy, you are to go. We wish to converse on high topics unsuited for your ear.”
The girl was stubborn. As her time at Florence drew to its close she was only at ease amongst those to whom she felt indifferent. Such a one was Miss Lavish, and such for the moment was Charlotte. She wished she had not called attention to herself; they were both annoyed at her remark and seemed determined to get rid of her.
“How tired one gets,” said Miss Bartlett. “Oh, I do wish Freddy and your mother could be here.”