“I can’t stand it,” he said. “I can’t stand it. I can’t stand it.” He
didn’t seem to know that he was speaking.
But Great-aunt heard his voice if she didn’t hear the words. She broke
away from Anita and went shuffling over the floor towards him with blind
movements. She would have fallen if he hadn’t been beside her in an
instant, holding her.
“Kent, d’you hear her? You know my daughter. You know Madala too. You
speak to her! You tell her! Madala always comes, doesn’t she? Always
comes. You tell her that! I want to see Madala. Very good to me, Madala.
Brought me a bunch of violets.”
Anita followed.
“Kent, for goodness’ sake, try to help me. She’ll make herself ill. I
shall have her in bed for days. Now, Mother——Now come, Mother!”
Great-aunt clung to his arm.
“She’s not kind. My daughter’s very hard on me.”
For the first time Anita showed signs of agitation. She was almost
appealing.
“Kent! You mustn’t believe her. It’s not fair. You see my position. One
has to be firm. And you don’t know how trying——What am I to do? Shall I
tell her? She’s as obstinate—I’ll never get her to bed. Ought I to tell
her? She’ll have to be told sooner or later. She’ll have to realize——”