The Shape of Fear [31]
and had much to say, so he talked all through dinner, and afterward followed the ladies to the draw- ing-room to finish his gossip. The gas in the room was turned very low, and as they entered Miss Prudence caught sight of Miss Carew, in company attire, sitting in upright propriety in a stiff-backed chair at the extremity of the apartment. Miss Prudence had a sudden idea. "We will not turn up the gas," she said, with an emphasis intended to convey private information to her sister. "It will be more agreeable to sit here and talk in this soft light." Neither her brother nor the man from the West made any objection. Miss Boggs and Miss Prudence, clasping each other's hands, divided their attention between their corporeal and their incorporeal guests. Miss Boggs was confident that her sister had an idea, and was willing to await its development. As the guest from Iowa spoke, Miss Carew bent a politely attentive ear to what he said. "Ever since Richards took sick that time," he said briskly, "it seemed like he shed all responsibility." (The Misses Boggs saw the Daguerrotype put up her shadowy head with a movement of doubt and apprehension.) "The fact of the matter was, Richards didn't seem to scarcely get on the way he might have been expected to." (At this conscienceless split to the infinitive and misplacing of the preposition, Miss Carew arose trembling per- ceptibly.) "I saw it wasn't no use for him to count on a quick recovery --" The Misses Boggs lost the rest of the sen- tence, for at the utterance of the double nega- tive Miss Lydia Carew had flashed out, not in a blur, but with mortal haste, as when life goes out at a pistol shot! The man from the West wondered why Miss Prudence should have cried at so pathetic a part of his story: "Thank Goodness!" And their brother was amazed to see Miss Boggs kiss Miss Prudence with passion and energy. It was the end. Miss Carew returned no more.
End
End