“It’s turned so very chilly, all of a sudden. You must have found it quite cold.”
“Yes.”
The doctor glanced at Cecil, who still looked chilled through and through.
“Drink some hot tea, Cecil,” said his grandmother.
Her voice was always so utterly inexpressive that it was impossible to say whether or not it denoted constraint, but again she avoided looking at the boy.
“Look here, Ford, I want to know——” began Sir Thomas.
“Just one moment, dear. I want a piece of plain bread and butter. This sort of cake is always poisonous. Dear me, how glad I shall be to get home again!”
Lucian seconded her evident desire to gain time.
“When did you come up from Squires?”
“Yesterday.” She lowered her voice. “Sir Thomas’s letters made me rather uneasy about him, and I thought I should prefer to be with him. He has felt the—the anxiety most terribly.”