Catherine nodded.
"I shouldn't care to have you supplanted by that face, if I were Letty—or Spencer—or——"
Catherine moved around to the desk to the side of his chair, her fingers twisting together in a nervous little gesture.
"She looks sensible and good natured, and Henrietta says she is fine. I've got to try someone."
"I suppose you must."
Catherine, balancing on the edge of the desk, looked steadily at her husband. He was holding his thoughts away from her, out of his eyes.
"It's mostly Letty, of course," she said. "The others will be in school." She sighed. "She can come Monday, the day I start."
Then they were silent. Charles rubbed his thumb along the edge of his book, and Catherine watched him, her gray eyes heavy.
No use talking about it to-night, when she was so tired. She pushed the affair away.