"Division of labour? Quite right, Mrs. Fanshaw," laughed Blake. "And if any of you can't manage your department, I'm ready to help."
"They can manage that department right enough," Fanshaw grumbled. "If we could manage them as well as they manage that——" He took a great gulp of champagne, and grew still redder when he heard Christine's scornful little chuckle.
Raymore turned to Sibylla with a kind fatherly smile.
"I hope we're not frightening you, Mrs. Imason? Not too much of the seamy side?"
Blake chimed in on her other hand:
"I'm here to maintain Mrs. Imason's illusions."
"If we're talking of departments, I think that's mine, Blake, thank you," called Grantley with a laugh.
"I'm sure I've been most considerate." This was Lady Harriet's first contribution to the talk. "I haven't said a word!"
"And you could a tale unfold?" asked Blake.
She made no answer beyond shrugging her fine shoulders and leaning back in her chair as she glanced across at her husband. A moment's silence fell on the table. It seemed that they recognised a difference between troubles and grievances which could be discussed with more or less good-nature, or quarrelled over with more or less acerbity, and those which were in another category. The moment the Courtlands were in question, a constraint arose. Tom Courtland himself broke the silence, but it was to talk about an important cricket-match. Lady Harriet smiled at him composedly, unconscious of the earnest study of Sibylla's eyes, which were fixed on her and were asking (as Mrs. Raymore would have said) many questions.