She moved away.
“How do you mean ‘that will do’?”
“Nothing; only don’t fidget.”
“You’re nervous, Nigel. You are always telling me not to fidget.”
“Am I? Sorry. Where are the children?”
“Never mind the children for a minute. They’re out with Mademoiselle.”
“They came in to lunch. No, I have not, as a matter of fact. Do you expect me to spend my whole time with children of eight and nine?”
He didn’t answer, but it was exactly what he really did expect, and would have thought perfectly natural and suitable.
“Some women,” continued Mary, “seem to care a great deal more for their children than they do for their husbands. I’m not like that—I don’t pretend to be.”