Why don't you give advice to Sarah? Do you imagine, with your silly ostrich head in the sand, that the town isn't talking about your sister's relations with Dr. Sinclair? Why, the other day I saw them . . . hoarse with rage, the Countess paused.
Ella!
In any case, please don't attempt to tell me what I shall do. I shall do exactly what I please in every respect, and I shall permit you to do the same, provided you attend to your own business and don't interfere in mine.
At this point the Countess rushed abruptly from the room, leaving Mrs. Townsend to make her way alone out of the library and out of the house.
In her own bed-chamber, the Countess gave still freer play to her turbulent emotions. Marching back and forth, she shouted: Canailles! Chameaux! Idiots! Salopes! How dare they! How dare they! The bloody busy-bodies! It was a long time before she felt calm enough to sit down; when she did, as usual, she chose the chair before her mirror. For some time she examined her reflection. They will make an old woman of me, she cried, if I let them. What do they matter? Wiping her face with cold cream, she skilfully made up again. She was expecting Gareth.
By the time the boy arrived, she had succeeded in effacing the traces of her unbecoming emotion, but she was very quiet. Gareth, walking beside her, immediately sensitive to states of feeling in others,
