“No. I think the morning room’s better.”
“Yes, I think it is.”
“Oh, I do wish it were over!” Mrs. Plant remarked with an involuntary sigh.
“You don’t seem to be looking forward to the ordeal,” Roger said quickly, with a slight smile.
“I hate the idea of giving evidence,” Mrs. Plant replied, almost passionately. “It’s horrible!”
“Oh, come. It isn’t as bad as all that. It’s not like a law case, you know. There’ll be no cross-examination, or anything like that. The proceedings will be purely formal, I take it, eh, Jefferson?”
“Purely,” Jefferson said, lighting a cigarette with deliberation. “Don’t suppose the whole thing will last more than twenty minutes.”
“So you see there won’t be anything very dreadful in it, Mrs. Plant. May I have another cup of tea, please?”
“Well, I wish it were over; that’s all,” Mrs. Plant said with a nervous little laugh, and Roger noticed that the hand which held his cup shook slightly.
Jefferson rose to his feet.