“I must butt in,” she thought. “Pushing is no good.”
Stimson ushered her into Lady Selina’s sitting-room.
Mother and daughter received her cordially. It was simply impossible not to like Tiddy, although you might criticise her. She possessed that incomparable gift of raising the temperature of any room she entered. All Lady Selma’s rooms were cool, even in the dog days, not yet arrived.
A superb engagement ring flashed upon Tiddy’s eyes.
She congratulated Cicely with effusion, upon the sound principle of telling a good lie if you are forced to do so. Lady Selina purred.
“Everybody is so kind. Such letters . . .! And telegrams . . .!”
“You like my ring, don’t you, Tiddy? Arthur sent it down from London yesterday. He wanted me to nip up with him, but I couldn’t leave mother, could I?”
“You could,” thought Tiddy, “if you were engaged to the One and Only.” Aloud she agreed graciously, “Of course not.”
“Any news, Tiddy? How are the V.A.D.s?”
“Clean bill of health. You heard about Agatha Farleigh?”