"I forget the date."
"Won't you tell us about it?" Rupert said. He leaned against the mantelpiece and puffed quickly.
"There's nothing more to tell."
"But when was it?" John persisted.
"Oh—about a month, six weeks, ago. The paper is upstairs, but one forgets."
"Wants to?"
"I didn't say so, did I? Notya is not to know."
"And Zebedee?"
"Of course he knows."
Rupert was frowning on her with a troubled look, and she knew he was trying to understand, that he was anxious not to hurt her.