My story isn’t b you, is it, Miss Lea?“ I endured a number of suents the following day as, uo suppress my yawns, I fidgeted and rubbed my eyes while listening to Miss Winter’s narration.
‘I’m sorry. I’m just tired.“
‘Tired!“ she exclaimed. ”You look like death warmed up! A proper meal would put yht. Whatever’s the matter with you?“
I shrugged my shoulders. “Just tired. That’s all.”
She pursed her lips and regarded me sternly, but I said nothing more, and she took up her story.
For six months things went on. We sequestered ourselves in a handful of rooms: the kit, where John still slept at night, the drawing room and the library. We girls used the back stairs to get from the kit to the one bedroom that seemed secure. The mattresses we slept ohose we had dragged from the old room, the beds themselves being too heavy to move. The house had felt too big anyway, sihe household had been so diminished in number. We survivors felt more at ease in……（内容加载失败！）
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