“I don’t mean,” he went on hastily, “that Brant’s not right: of course there’s nothing to be afraid of. I can’t imagine why you thought there was.”
She hung her head. “Sometimes when I hear the other women—other mothers—I feel as if our turn must come too. Even at Sainte Menehould a shell might hit the house. Anderson said the artillery fire seemed so near.”
He made no answer, and she sat silent, without apparent thought of leaving. Finally he said: “I was just going out——”
She stood up. “Oh, yes—that reminds me. I came to ask you to come with me.”
“With you——?”
“The motor’s waiting—you must.” She laid her hand on his arm. “To see Olida, the new clairvoyante. Everybody goes to her—everybody who’s anxious about anyone. Even the scientific people believe in her. She’s told people the most extraordinary things—it seems she warned Daisy de Dolmetsch.... Well, I’d rather know!” she burst out passionately.
Campton smiled. “She’ll tell you that George is back at his desk.”
“Well, then—isn’t that worth it? Please don’t refuse me!”
He disengaged himself gently. “My poor Julia, go by all means if it will reassure you.”
“Ah, but you’ve got to come too. You can’t say no: Madge Talkett tells me that if the two nearest go together Olida sees so much more clearly—especially a father and mother,” she added hastily, as if conscious of the inopportune “nearest.” After a moment she went on: “Even Mme. de Tranlay’s been; Daisy de Dolmetsch met her on the stairs. Olida told her that her youngest boy, from whom she’d had no news for weeks, was all right, and coming home on leave. Mme. de Tranlay didn’t know Daisy, except by sight, but she stopped her to tell her. Only fancy—the last person she would have spoken to in ordinary times! But she was so excited and happy! And two days afterward the boy turned up safe and sound. You must come!” she insisted.