"As a rule very little does," remarked Geoffrey.
"In this case I sincerely hope that very little will," said she. "Geoffrey, I am not altogether happy about it."
"Why not?" he asked. "You told me you pushed Harry till he went and asked her. Did you mean him to be refused? Or are you afraid that either of them will think they have made a mistake? Of course, they are both young."
Lady Oxted laughed.
"You funny old maid!" she said. "No, I am not afraid of that."
"Never mind me," he said. "What are you afraid of, then?"
Lady Oxted was silent so long that Geoffrey would have repeated his question had he not felt quite certain that she had heard it. As it was, it was a full half minute, an aeon of a pause in conversation, before she replied. Then:
"Of Mr. Francis," she said.
Geoffrey had just lit a match for his cigarette, but he held it so long that it burned down, and he threw it hastily away, as the flame scorched his finger-tips. The cigarette he put very carefully and absently back in his case.
"What on earth do you mean?" he asked.