“I think Sallie goes with you, General,” said Christopher.
And I saw Claire look round at the tone in which he said it.
Then the rehearsal broke up. Sallie and Martyn disappeared, but Mary Ambrey stayed and had lunch with us.
As soon as the servants had left the dining room, Claire wrung her hands together and looked despairing.
“Did you notice Christopher?” she asked in husky misery. “Surely, surely he couldn’t?”
Of course, both Mary and I knew what she meant. We had heard her say the same thing so often.
“He only offered to take her in the two-seater. There really need not be any very great significance in that,” I pointed out, although I knew very well that, to Claire’s type of mind, events are of two kinds only: the intensely significant and the completely non-existent.
“I thought you wanted Christopher to get married,” said Mary calmly.
Claire nearly screamed.
“Why shouldn’t he marry Nancy Fazackerly? Not that I think he wants to marry her just because he offers to take her for a drive—but supposing he did, Claire—I can’t see why you shouldn’t be pleased.”