“And I shall.”
“Quite. The right moment has come. Cicely must have recovered from her bereavement. If I know anything of my sex”—her tone justified the assumption that what Mrs. Roden did not know upon that fascinating subject was negligible—“Cicely is ripe for the plucking.”
“You talk of her as if she were a goose,” he said.
“Pray don’t interrupt me! Cicely is a sensible girl, thank God! She is also a good girl, fully alive to the responsibilities of marriage. As a potential mother——”
Wilverley held up a hand.
“Don’t be obstetric, Mary, please.”
“What a word——! I am never that. However——! How you heckle my thoughts! I repeat, Cicely is ripe for the plucking. You have only to stretch forth your hand. Lady Selina will be much gratified if you call at once. I refrain from accompanying you for obvious reasons. The weather is settled. I regard that as a sign. I am quite sure that Cicely has been dull and depressed at Danecourt Castle.”
“Abbey.”
“I call it a feudal stronghold. Probably she was bored to tears. She comes home hankering for a change—any change. You appear—not wearing that tie——”
“You shall select my tie.”