"She and I have never made particularly violent friends, though I like her, of course. Pamela adores her—and I must say she's been good to Pam. But her kindness doesn't cost her anything. She's always been rich, and had everything she wanted—she was the only girl, and her people adored her, and now Cedric lets her do everything she likes. She spends any amount of money—look at her clothes, and the way she has little Rosemary always dressed in white."
"Rosemary is lovely. It's so extraordinary to think of Cedric's child!"
Barbara tightened her lips.
"She ought to have been a boy, of course. Cedric pretended not to care, but it must have been a disappointment—and goodness only knows if Violet will ever—"
She stopped, throwing a quick glance out of the corners of her eyes at her sister.
Alex wondered why she did not finish her sentence, and what she had been about to say.
The constraint in her intercourse with Barbara was becoming more and more evident to her perceptions. It was clear that her sister did not intend to ask any questions as to the crisis through which Alex had passed, and when she had once ascertained that Alex had not "seen anybody" whilst in Rome, she did not refer to that either.
Alex wondered if Barbara would tell her anything of Ralph and their married life, but the reserve which had always been characteristic of Barbara since her nursery days, had hardened sensibly, and it was obvious that she wished neither to give nor to receive confidences.
She was quite ready, however, to discuss her brother Cedric and his wife, or the prospects of Pamela and Archie, and Alex listened all the evening to Barbara's incisive little clear tones delivering shrewd comments and judgments. She again suggested that Alex should go to bed early, saying as she kissed her good-night:
"It's quite delightful to have some one to talk to, for me. I generally read or sew all the evening."