She did not want
to step down again into even the minutest eddy of that ruthless
flood. Moreover, in addition to this morbid reluctance she lacked the
physical energy that such a step demanded of her.
"It's very kind of your little daughter to think of asking me," she
said. "But really, I shouldn't be any good. I get tired so quickly.
No, there's nothing the matter with me," seeing his intent look. "I'm
not ill. I never have been actually ill. Only--" her voice quivered a
little--"I think I always shall be tired for the rest of my life."
"Skittles!" he returned bluntly. "That isn't what's the matter with
you. Go out into the open air. Go out into the north-east wind and
sweep the snow away. Shall I tell you what is wrong with you? You're
stiff from inaction. It's a species of cramp, my dear, and there's
only one remedy for it. Are you going to take it of your own accord,
or must I come round with a physic spoon and make you?"
She laughed a little, though the deep pathos of her shadowed eyes
never varied. Daisy's merry voice rose from the lower regions gaily
chaffing her cousin.
"Goodness, Blake! I shouldn't have known you. You're as gaunt as
a camel. Haven't you got over your picnic at Fort Wara yet? You're
almost as scanty a bag of bones as Nick was six months ago.
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