Clare kept her waiting while she clipped at the indentations of the crown. The scissors clicked and flashed. It seemed an interminable process.
Finally she spoke to Alwynne, her eyes on her work.
"Miss Durand! You gave my message to the Fifths?"
Yes, Alwynne had told the girls.
"Wasn't Louise in the room at the time?"
Alwynne's unwilling eyes took in every detail of the forlorn figure between them. She lied swiftly, amazing herself—
"As a matter of fact—I believe Louise was not in the room at the time. It was my fault: I should have seen that she was told. I'm so sorry."
Louise gave a little gasp of relief—more audible than she realised.
Clare roused at it. She disliked a check. She disliked also the obvious sympathy between the child and the girl.
"No, it was my fault. I should have gone myself. It's always wiser. It saves trouble in the long run. Never mind, Louise. You couldn't help it. Are you sure of your words?"