"What must I do?" she asked, as if she was speaking to a friend. "I am afraid. Tell me."
Little Mrs. Osborn stood still and stared at her. The most incongruous thought came to her mind. She found herself, at this weird moment, observing how well the woman held her stupid head, how finely it was set on her shoulders, and that in a modern Royal Academy way she was rather like the Venus of Milo. It is quite out of place to think such things at such a time. But she found herself confronted with them.
"Go away," she answered. "It is all like a thing in a play, but I know what I am talking about. Say you are ordered abroad. Be cool and matter-of-fact. Simply go and hide yourself somewhere, and call your husband home as soon as he can travel."
Emily Walderhurst passed her hand over her forehead.
"It is like something in a play," she said, with a baffled, wondering face. "It isn't even respectable."
Hester began to laugh.
"No, it isn't even respectable," she cried. And her laughter was just in time. The door opened and Alec Osborn came in.
"What isn't respectable?" he asked.
"Something I have been telling Emily," she answered, laughing even a trifle wildly. "You are too young to hear such things. You must be kept respectable at any cost."
He grinned, but faintly scowled at the same time.