
    Elgar heard it with indifference. He was silent for a minute or two; then,
quitting his chair, asked:
    »Had you much talk with her?«
    »With Cecily? We were living together, you know.«
    »Yes, but had she much to tell you? Did she talk about how things were going
with us - what I was doing, and so on?«
    He was never still. Now he threw himself into another chair, and strummed
with his fingers on the arm of it.
    »She told me about your work.«
    »And showed that she took very little interest in it, no doubt?«
    Miriam gazed at him.
    »Why do you think that?«
    »Oh, that's tolerably well understood between us.« Again he rose, and paced
with his hands in his pockets. »It was a misfortune that Clarence died. Now she
has nothing to occupy herself with. She doesn't seem to have any idea of
employing her time. It was bad enough when the child was living, but since then
-«
    He spoke as though the hints fell from him involuntarily; he wished to be
understood as implying no censure, but merely showing an unfortunate state of
things. When he broke off, it was with a shrug and a shake of the head.
    »But I suppose she reads a good deal?« said Miriam; »and has friends to
visit?«
    »She seems to care very little about reading nowadays. And as for the
friends - yes, she is always going to some house or other. Perhaps it would have
been better if she had had no friends at all.«
    »You mean that they are objectionable people?«
    »Oh no; I don't mean to say anything of that kind. But - well, never mind,
we won't talk about it.«
    He threw up an arm, and began to pace the floor again. His nervousness was
increasing. In a few moments he broke out in the same curious tone, which was
half complaining, half resigned.
    »You know Cecily, I dare say. She has a good deal of - well, I won't call it
vanity, because that has a vulgar sound, and she is never vulgar. But she likes
to be admired by clever people. One must remember how young she still is. And
that's the very thing of which she can't endure to be reminded. If I hint a
piece of counsel, she feels it an insult. I suppose
