Neither does she like me to handle her affairs with gloves on,
so to speak. So I plunged into the business in a matter-of-fact tone, and
she replied in the same. Her objection is to going east to New York, and
then to the other side. "I had rather stay in California," she said, "or
anywhere in the West." Naturally; westward lies the way of escape from
social complications.
She is afraid of the Percifers, and of meeting people she knows in Paris.
But an offer like this was exceptional in this part of the world, I
reminded her. A nurse for the boy, a maid, and only two little girls of
eight and ten on her hands; and such nice people as the Garretts, who have
been all over the world!
"Well," she said, "I should certainly like to get away from here as soon as
possible. From _here_, not from _you_!" she added, looking me in the face.
Her eyes were full of tears. We clasped hands on that.
"What is it? Has anything else happened?" I asked; for I knew by her looks
that something had.
"Oh, dear!" she sighed, "I should so like to take myself and my troubles
seriously once in a while. No sooner do I try, but something perfectly
farcical is sure to happen.
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