“How is Kitty?” she inquired. “It strikes me that she is looking pale and thin.”
“She is not very well,” the mother admitted. “The weather has been hot lately. I’m not sure that so much painting is good for her, and, to tell you the truth, I think Kitty has worried over this foolish affair. I wish she would forget it.”
“So do I,” said Mrs Marchmont, candidly.
“What shall we do to her?”
“She has plenty of sense,” said Mrs Lascelles, “and if no more is said about it, and she finds there is no danger of meeting Mr Everitt, I hope she will cease to think about it all.”
“Poor man!”—with a sigh.
“Oh, come, Mary,” Mrs Lascelles said, with a laugh, “I am not going to have him pitied. He has caused us a great deal of annoyance, and if Kitty gets ill, I shan’t forgive him in a hurry.”
“Why don’t you take her away for a change? The inestimable Miss Potter would look after the children, and Captain Lascelles could dine with us whenever he pleased.”
Mrs Lascelles looked doubtful.
“Where could we go?”