“And she’s enjoyed her nineteen years into the bargain. But maidenhood has a market value, and Manon has known that from the cradle. Not from La llorraine; she’s no ready reckoner—much too generous.”
Gillian asked: “Carew has been married before, hasn’t he? What was his first wife like?”
And Antonia and Deb exchanged a long glance. Then the latter spoke softly. “Jenny was good—but not careful.... I’ve been thinking about her rather a lot, lately....”
“She was too good by a thousand miles to be Manon’s predecessor,” murmured Antonia.
Gillian, suddenly standing up, flung away her jersey, revealing only a camisole beneath. Then she unfastened the safety-pin that clipped her skirt together. “That’s better. I believe scraggy people feel the heat more than fat ones—I do really. It seems to get so quickly at our bones and grill them. Which is hotter, sizzled flesh or grilled bones? Winnie, I appeal to you?”
“I was just wondering....” Winnie began, as usual ten minutes behind in the conversation—“What Deb meant by——”
A violent peal at the bell stopped her.
“I can’t be bothered to dress all over again for that. Answer it, Deb!”
“Let me,” pleaded Nell. She had been lumped on the floor, somewhere near Gillian’s feet, gazing steadily upwards at that young woman’s face. Now, in an agony lest someone not herself should have this chance of doing a service to her goddess, she scrambled up, threw a look of fierce dark reproach in Deb’s direction, and rushed to the front door, colliding with Silvester’s dignified progress through the hall.