"Very well. Say that I'll be down in a minute."
She felt nervous, she did not know why; chilled at her hands and cold
within; she rubbed her cheeks vigorously with a handkerchief to restore
to them some of the color which had fled. There was a slightly pinched
look at the corners of her mouth, and she smiled at her reflection in
the glass, somewhat artificially and elaborately, until she had chased
it away. Undoubtedly she had been working too hard by day, and going too
hard by night; she must let up, stop burning the candle at both ends.
But she must see Mr. Queed, of course, to show him finally that no
explanation could explain now. It came into her mind that this was but
the third time he had ever been inside her house--the third, and it was
the last.
He had been shown into the front parlor, the stiffer and less friendly
of the two rooms, and its effect of formality matched well with the
temper of their greeting. By the obvious stratagem of coming down with
book in one hand and some pretense at fancy-work in the other, Sharlee
avoided shaking hands with him. Having served their purpose, the small
burdens were laid aside upon the table.
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