“After all, it’s her life,” Laura argued.
“Yes. Yes, of course. And she writes most sensibly about Timothy.”
“Oh, Coral’s very sensible,” said Laura eagerly. She was glad to praise Coral, to be loyal and affectionate to Coral, in atonement for the vague wrong that nobody had done Coral.
“Yes, she’s a dear, good girl!” Mrs. Cloud’s tone matched Laura’s. “I wish—I wish she could have stayed in England—have kept in touch—” And then, “I suppose—that part——?”
“Oh, I expect there were hundreds of applicants,” said Laura hastily, refusing to remember Coral’s excitement—“A dead secret—keeping it dark—you know what Willy is!”
“Most probably she wasn’t suitable,” said Mrs. Cloud.
“One never knows,” Laura was evasive. “Is Justin in? I haven’t seen him since Coral left.”
Mrs. Cloud’s face brightened as the sky does when a cloud has slid from the moon.
“I know. He’s wanted you. He’s been so busy. The new cabinet came that same afternoon.”
“Oh!” said Laura slowly. “Oh—the cabinet came the same afternoon.” And then—“I think I’ll go up to him.”