ing way--such a positive set of lies that
I marveled and began to wonder how much of Tom was acting and how much
was real.
Tom went back to London on the next train, and reached the "farm" with
our baggage before it was time to dress for the eight-o'clock dinner.
The dinner was long and stupid. After dinner the women went into the
drawing-room and gossiped about politics and personalities until the men
joined them, when they sat down to cards. I did not know how to play
cards, and so was left with a garrulous old woman who had eaten and
drunk over-much.
It had been a long day for me. I was ill and tired. Suddenly sleep
began to overpower me. I batted my eyes to keep them open. I tried
looking at the crystal lights, but my leaden eyes could not face them.
The constant drone of that old woman was putting me to sleep. I tried
to say a few words now and then to wake myself. I felt myself slipping.
Once my head dropped and came up with a jerk. I watched the great
French clock. Its hands did not seem to move. I looked at Tom. He was
absorbed in his game. I could not endure it another minute. I went
over and said good night to my hostess who had spoken to me only once
since my arrival.
Drowsy as I was, I noticed she seemed surprised. "Oh, no," I told her;
"I am not ill, only very sleepy."
How good my pillow felt!
The next morning Tom was cross. I had made a _faux pas_. I had shown I
was bored and peeved and had gone to bed before the hostess indicated it
was bedtime. It "was n't done" in England.
"What do you do if you can't keep awake?" I asked. "You slip out
quietly, go to your room ask a maid to call you after you have had forty
winks, then you go back and pretend you are having a good time," said
Tom.
There were some bitter hours after we got back to London. But Tom won,
and I promised to get a companion. Then there came into my life the
most wonderful of friends. She was the widow of a British Army officer
who had been killed in India, and her only child was dead. She was a
woman of education and heart; she understood my needs, all of them, and
I interested her. She had seen great suffering; she had a deep feeling
for humanity and an honest desire to be of use in the world. In the
English register my companion was listed as the Honorable Evelyn, but we
quickly got down to Mary and Eve. We loved each other. Eve went to
France with us a few months later. She made me talk Frenc
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