Ford turned round upon her and very nearly snarled: “No! Wait where you are. I shall be back presently.”
Hardly had he turned his back before the doctor felt Rose’s clutch upon his arm.
“Get a taxi,” she urged breathlessly. “Never mind him. He can go to Sir Thomas. I shall take Ces home to Ovington Street. He can’t see his grandfather now, he isn’t fit for it. You can see he isn’t fit for it.”
Her eyes pleaded with him and commanded him.
“Wait a minute. Hadn’t he better get it over, Rose, my dear? He’ll have to see his grandfather sooner or later, and it’s due to the old man, too. Ask the boy what he thinks, Rose.”
She stamped her foot with impatience, her great eyes blazing.
“Can’t you see for yourself that he’s stunned? He doesn’t know what’s happening to him, hardly.”
“I know,” said the doctor gently. “And that’s one reason why it would be better for him to go to Sir Thomas now. There’s bound to be a reaction, later on. Let him get it over.”
She flung herself round, but when she spoke to Cecil her voice was full and soft and gentle.
“Shall we go to the Langham now, to meet Grandpapa, Ces, or would you rather come to Uncle A.’s? You needn’t see any one there unless you want to.”