‘That house was like an oven. I won’t go to any more such places. That isn’t my idea of enjoying myself.’
Mrs. Damerel examined him with affectionate solicitude, and reflected before speaking.
‘Haven’t you been living rather fast lately?’
He avoided her eyes.
‘Not at all.’
‘Quite sure? How much money have you spent this last month?’
‘Not much.’
By careful interrogation—the caressing notes of her voice seemed to convey genuine feeling—Mrs. Damerel elicited the fact that he had spent not less than fifty pounds in a few weeks. She looked very grave.
‘What would our little Fanny say to this?’
‘I don’t care what she would say.’