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"I don't particularly wish to learn your Voodoo secrets," answered Jen carelessly. "All I desire to know is why you manufactured that scent with which you saturated a certain handkerchief of your mistress." "If I haven't forgotten all about Miss Jinny!" she thought remorsefully. "How fearfully self-absorbed I'm getting to be. I'm a perfect pig!" "He seems to have been very confidential," said Isabella, scornfully, "and from what I have seen, Dido, he has some influence over you.".
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They paced for a minute or two in silence, and then Patricia gave a little sigh. Mrs. Dallas was a large, fat and eminently lazy woman, who passed most of her time in knitting or sleeping or eating. Her husband had died before she had come to England, and it was the desire to preserve her daughter's health which had brought her so far from the sun-baked islands which her soul loved. Elinor smiled absently, and then burst out fervently, "Isn't it all gloriously workmanlike—the bare walls and smudged doors and the painty smell, too? It's so serious. Outside, the people regard a picture as a mere luxury, but in here, here," she said, exultantly, "it is absolutely the necessary thing in life." "It's my sketch," admitted Elinor in a low tone. "I missed it the next day, but I thought Miss Pat had dropped it when she brought my things home to me. My study was almost done, and I forgot all about it after that.".
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