"I suppose she had been in here seeing about the milk. My aunt says she used to look after that matter before my father was taken ill."
"Who, Lady Clifford? Did she?"
He did not look up, and so missed the brief, faintly puzzled expression that flitted over her face as she stopped in the doorway with a vase of tulips in her hands.
As it happened, she was wondering over this fresh instance of Lady Clifford's solicitude for her husband's welfare, and trying to make it fit in with the idea that had come to her on the previous day. More than ever the Frenchwoman appeared to her a mass of contradictions; try as she would she felt she could never fathom her….
A moment later Roger brought a narrow folded document and handed it to his father.
"Is this it?"
"Yes, quite right. Lay it here on the bed beside me. I'll run over it presently. I suppose you'll be off somewhere now?"
"I thought of running down to the tennis-courts on the chance of getting a few sets. I'll not be back for lunch."
"Know anyone to play with?"
"Yes; I ran into Graham and Marjory Kent at the Casino yesterday. They said they'd bring a fourth."