"Thanks."
Fulvia brought it herself: and it remained untouched. Glances were exchanged by the three girls; and Daisy spoke in response to a sign from Fulvia—"Nigel, the tea is getting cold. Won't you take some now?"
Nigel roused himself to comply; but after a few sips the cup was pushed aside, and he seemed overpowered by grief and weariness.
Fulvia told herself that she ought not to wonder; yet she did wonder. She had expected a word from him, or a look—and she had neither. But perhaps such expectations were unreasonable. It was very soon—only a few hours since his father's death; and Nigel had always been an affectionate son. She signed to the girls to say no more; and for ten minutes the clock ticked in unbroken silence.
Nigel spoke at last without stirring—
"Did you say my mother wanted me?"
Daisy's "Yes" and Fulvia's "No" came together. Daisy showed surprise.
"No," repeated Fulvia; "not when she knows how you are."
"I don't wish her to know."
Fulvia could not take upon herself to answer. She could only look again towards Daisy, and Daisy made response—