"I can't stay long here," she whispered to Hilda, terrified.
And she suffered going into her own bedroom, re-entering into possession as if nothing had happened. She hated every minute inside the Wragby walls.
They did not meet Clifford till they went down to dinner. He was dressed, and with a black tie: rather reserved, and very much the superior gentleman. He behaved perfectly politely during the meal, and kept a polite sort of conversation going: but it seemed all touched with insanity.
"How much do the servants know?" asked Connie, when the woman was out of the room.
"Of your intentions? Nothing whatsoever."
"Mrs. Bolton knows."
He changed colour.
"Mrs. Bolton is not exactly one of the servants," he said.
"Oh, I don't mind."
There was tension till after coffee, when Hilda said she would go up to her room.