“Oh, thank you: I’m not particularly well, but Miss Haines was right. I AM clumsy.”
“Well, it’s mean work for anybody with a headache.” Miss Kilroy paused irresolutely. “You ought to go right home and lay down. Ever try orangeine?”
“Thank you.” Lily held out her hand. “It’s very kind of you — I mean to go home.”
She looked gratefully at Miss Kilroy, but neither knew what more to say. Lily was aware that the other was on the point of offering to go home with her, but she wanted to be alone and silent — even kindness, the sort of kindness that Miss Kilroy could give, would have jarred on her just then.
“Thank you,” she repeated as she turned away.
She struck westward through the dreary March twilight, toward the street where her boarding-house stood. She had resolutely refused Gerty’s o
