"Don't you think George ought to know? Don't you think one of us ought to tell him,--either you or me? You might tell him?"
"Tell him what?" Edwin demanded sharply, pushing back his chair.
"Well, everything!"
He glowered. He could feel himself glowering. He could feel the justifiable anger animating him.
"Certainly not!" he enunciated resentfully, masterfully, overpoweringly. "Certainly not!"
"But supposing he hears from outsiders?"
"You needn't begin supposing."
"But he's bound to have to know sometime."
"Possibly. But he isn't going to know now, any road! Not with my consent. The thing's absolute madness."
Hilda almost whispered: