"I think I understand," she said. "You were ill in mind; that is the
worst sort of illness, isn't it?"
She glanced round at Mrs Moore, who was trotting along behind.
"Go home, mother; I'll follow you."
"You'll lose yourself, Gussie."
"Don't call me Gussie. I'll follow you."
Mrs Moore said something to me; she was quite nice and commonplace, and
did not allude to the subject of the "new mamma."
Presently Augusta and I found ourselves alone, for the boys the moment
they saw her had taken precious good care to make themselves scarce. We
walked on slowly.
"I should like to see your house," said Augusta.
"You can if you wish to," I replied.