"Because, you see, if there's nothing in it, I should appear so utterly absurd. And if there was, is it likely that Chetwode would wire and say so?"
"Scarcely. You have sparks of real genius, Lady Chetwode, I must say! I never thought of that! The best way would be to make him come back as quickly as possible. Of course, he'd return if you were ill?"
"Rather. Besides, I am. Very."
"So you are. Then write to that effect."
"I think I will, but not yet." She remembered Savile's advice to wait till after dinner.
"May I ask," inquired Wilton, "if you're delaying in order to confide in women? This, I know, seems very impertinent of me, but I can't help advising you not. You'd be so sorry afterwards! When you go and tell Vera that it is all right after all, however pleased she is, there'll always be an uncomfortable feeling on your side that perhaps she doesn't quite believe you—that she thinks you're making the best of it. And Miss Sylvia will be so gloriously indignant and jealous for you that she won't do you any good."
"I know, Bertie. You are absolutely right. But I never do confide in women—only in men whom I can trust. Like you—and Savile."
"Thank you. And how right you are! Then if you're going to delay any action in the matter and put the picture aside, what are you going to do [to-day]?"
"I half promised Vera to meet her marvellous new palmist, Madame Zero, at her house this afternoon."
She took Vera's note out of a long grey envelope sealed with an Egyptian seal.