very much. She frequently hurt Emmy to the quick, darting in one of her
sure careless stabs that shattered Emmy's self-control. So while they
loved each other, Jenny also despised Emmy, while Emmy in return hated
and was jealous of Jenny, even to the point of actively wishing in
moments of furtive and shamefaced savageness to harm her. That was the
outward difference between the sisters in time of stress. Of their
inner, truer, selves it would be more rash to speak, for in times of
peace Jenny had innumerable insights and emotions that would be forever
unknown to the elder girl. The sense of rivalry, however, was acute: it
coloured every moment of their domestic life, unwinking and incessant.
When Emmy came from the scullery into the kitchen bearing her precious
dish of stew, and when Jenny, standing up, was measured against her,
this rivalry could have been seen by any skilled observer. It rayed and
forked about them as lightning might have done about two adjacent trees.
Emmy put down her dish.

"Fetch Pa, will you!" she said briefly. One could see who gave orders in
the kitchen.


iv

Jenny found her father in his bedroom, sitting before the dressing-table
upon which a tall candle stood in an equally tall candlestick. He was
looking intently at his reflection in the looking-glass, as one who
encounters and examines a stranger. In the glass his face looked red and
ugly, and the tossed grey hair and heavy beard were made to appear
startlingly unkempt. His mouth was open, and his eyes shaded by lowered
lids. In a rather trembling voice he addressed Jenny upon her entrance.