Catherine lit a cigarette, and, catching Maud’s eye, nodded in the direction of her maid and spoke in French.
“Send her away for a few minutes,” she said.
Maud gave a giggle of laughter.
“What a bad language to choose,” she said, “because Hortense is French—aren’t you, Hortense? Will you go away, please, and come back when her ladyship goes away?”
Then Maud turned to her sister-in-law.
“Now, Catherine, what is it?” she asked.
“Well, first, do be very kind to me, Maud, and take Theodosia away on all possible occasions, so that she gets on Thurso’s nerves as little as may be.”
Maud brought a long plait of hair round her shoulder and held it in her mouth for a moment.
“Then I know what you want to talk about,” she said. “Theodosia first: I’m on; and afterwards?”
“Of course you know. Thurso’s nerves. He was fearfully jumpy all the way down. He made efforts, but you don’t have to make efforts if you are well, do you? He was rather rude, too, which is so unlike him. He is not rude when he is well. You told me he had bad attacks of neuralgia up in Scotland.”