He did not quite know what to say. If he said, "I've heard about you and Frank; many congratulations," that would hardly do. But if he said, "I'm sorry to hear of the death of your husband," that would be worse. So he said nothing, while Vicky dreamed.
"I understand," she went on, rousing herself and smiling, "that I gave all of you rather a bad time on Thursday night."
"Not at all."
"No, certainly not," agreed Ann, rearranging the coverlet. "And please stop thinking about it!"
"My dear, somebody's got to think about it," Vicky said practically. "We may as well admit that we're in an awful mess, and that I came luckily out of it."
He wondered if she knew what had been really wrong with her. Evidently not.
Her eyes were somber. "But I wonder," Vicky said, touching her throat gingerly, "I wonder, Ann, whether you'd do me a great favor?"
"Of course."
"I wonder whether you would come and stay here with me tonight? And maybe tomorrow night too? Chief Inspector Masters says he can arrange it with Colonel Race, if you have to be away."
Outside the windows, dim and far off, there was a very faint flicker of lightning.