In no other way, however, could she account for this incoherent, illogical, unmeaning rush of words.
When the pause came she filled it with a quiet: "I don't think I quite understand, Milly.

Just what is it that you want me to tell my niece ?" "Yes, that's it; I want you to tell her," answered the girl, feverishly.
"Make her see what she's done for us.

Of course she's SEEN some things, because she's been there, and she's known mother is different; but I want her to know HOW different she is--and me, too.

I'm different.

I've been trying to play it--the game--a little." Miss Polly frowned.