She had so often
seen the same look in her mother's eyes. Evidently the likeness between
them was more extensive than she had imagined. For the first time she
became conscious of an emotional, hysterical side to her nature of which
she had been unaware. Perhaps it was just as well that she had
discovered it. She would have to keep a stricter watch upon herself.
This question of her future relationship with Phillips: it would have to
be thought out coldly, dispassionately. Nothing unexpected must be
allowed to enter into it.
It was some time before she fell asleep. The high glass faced her as she
lay in bed. She could not get away from the idea that it was her
mother's face that every now and then she saw reflected there.
She woke late the next morning. Her father had already left for the
works. She was rather glad to have no need of talking. She would take a
long walk into the country, and face the thing squarely with the help of
the cheerful sun and the free west wind that was blowing from the sea.
She took the train up north and struck across the hills.
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