She sat down again and decided to tell him.
'You'll be glad to hear,' she said, 'that Hyacinth and Cecil Reeve are engaged. They are to be married in the autumn.'
Guessing she expected him to display interest, he answered irritably—
'I don't care. It has nothing to do with me.'
'No, of course not.'
'I never heard anything so idiotic as having a wedding in the autumn. A most beastly time, I think—November fogs.'
'I heard something else,' said Edith, 'which surprised me much more. Fancy, Lord Selsey's going to be married—to Mrs Raymond. Isn't that extraordinary?'
'Lord Selsey—a widower! Disgusting! I thought he pretended to be so fond of his first wife.'
'He was, dear, I believe. But she died eighteen years ago, and—'
'Instead of telling me all this tittle-tattle it would be much better if you did as I asked you, Edith, and fetched me the cigarettes. I've asked you several times. Of course I don't want to make a slave of you. I'm not one of those men who want their wives to be a drudge. But, after all, they're only in the next room. It isn't a very hard task! And I'm very weak, or I'd go myself.'