"What does he say, Flora?"
"Oh, it's nonsense—and he needn't say it to me, anyhow. It really isn't particularly pleasant for me. Oh, well, then, he says he's not fit to go near them." She turned round to him; there was a flush on her face. "Such nonsense!" she ended impatiently.
Caylesham pulled his moustache, and smiled reflectively.
"I suppose it might take him like that," he observed, with an impartial air.
"Oh, I know you're only laughing at me! But I tell you, I don't like it, Frank."
"These little incidents are—well, incidental, Flora. Innocent children, you know! And I shouldn't be surprised if he even made excuses for Harriet now?"
"No, he doesn't do that. It's the children. Stop smiling like that, will you?"
"Certainly, my dear Flora. My smile was a pure oversight."
"It was all I could do to get him to go to the funeral. Do you think she killed herself, Frank?"
"I've not the least intention of examining the question. What can it matter?"