Hilda thought: "Why did I say that?" And, to cover her constraint, she cried out: "Oh, what a lovely book!"
A small book, bound in full purple calf, lay half hidden in a nest of fine tissue paper on the dressing-table.
"Yes, isn't it?" said Mrs. Orgreave. "Tom brought it in to show me, before he went this afternoon. It's a birthday present for Edie. He's had it specially bound. I must write myself, and ask Edie to come over and meet you. I'm sure you'd like her. She's a dear girl. I think Tom's very fortunate."
"No, you don't," Osmond Orgreave contradicted her, with a great rustling of paper. "You think Edie's very fortunate."
Hilda looked round, and caught the architect's smile.
"I think they're both fortunate," said Mrs. Orgreave simply. She had almost no sense of humour. "I'm sure she's a real good girl, and clever too."
"Clever enough to get on the right side of her future mother-in-law, anyway!" growled Mr. Orgreave.
"Anyone might think Osmond didn't like the girl," said Mrs. Orgreave, "from the way he talks. And yet he adores her! And it's no use him pretending he doesn't!"
"I only adore you!" said Osmond.
"You needn't try to turn it off!" his wife murmured, beaming on Hilda.