As she was waiting on the platform, the prophecy of Madame Zero occurred to her, and she thought to herself, with a smile—
"She doesn't seem so bad at prophesying what one's going to do. It's when she prophesies what one ought to have done that the poor dear gets out of her depth."
When he had arrived, and they were driving off together, she thought he looked neither more nor less serene and casual than usual; his actual presence seemed to radiate calm and dispose of anxiety; her suspicions began to melt away.
They had dined together, and talked on generalities, and neither had mentioned the subject. Chetwode's intense dislike to any disturbing topic infected Felicity; she now felt a desire to let him off even an explanation. She wished she had never seen the velvet case, or, at any rate, that she had never mentioned it to any one. He didn't, she fancied, look as if he were deceiving her in any way. His affection was not more marked than usual, nor less so. She observed there was no tinge in his manner of an attempt to make up for anything. Yet the question had to be asked.
"What did you do most of the time there?" began Felicity.
"Nothing. Played bridge."
"By the way," said Felicity, "you've never told me what Mrs. Tregelly's like."
"Of course I haven't. She isn't like anything."
"Isn't she very pretty?"
"Oh, I suppose she's all right—for Tregelly," said Chetwode.