"Better not come then, old chap," said Lindfield. "There's not much conversation usually when I'm with you. I never get a word in. Nor anybody else."
It was impossible to take offence at even this, so pure and friendly was the chaff. It may be said to Jim's credit that he did not even attempt to do so.
"What am I to do, then?" he asked. "I can't converse alone.—Mrs. Halton, will you talk to me?"
"No, Mrs. Halton's going to write letters all the morning," said Lindfield. "She told me so."
Just for a second Daisy allowed herself to think "So he already knew that," but it was but momentary. This mood of drawing inferences from infinitesimal data in other people's conduct was altogether detestable; she must not allow herself to do it.
"Yes, I'm going to be a virtuous woman," said Aunt Jeannie.—"Alice dear, will you get a nice dog-chain and fasten me down to a writing-table till I swear to you that I have written to everybody who ever writes to me?"
"If you wish, but if I chain you down you sacrifice the fineness of your virtue. You make a virtue of necessity."
"No," said Jeannie, "I make a necessity of virtue. I shan't be able to get up. Or is it the same thing?"
"You're clearly going to make a morning of it," remarked Lindfield.
Jeannie sighed.