Tiddy noticed that Cicely put her mother first.
“There will be appalling ructions.”
“There won’t be ructions. I could buck up against ructions. Mother never rages when she feels things deeply. She glumps, as you accuse me of doing. She will look at me in stony silence. She will become more forlorn than ever. I’ve been a wicked fool. What time is it?”
“Half-past four.”
“We must make this tea pleasant.” Tiddy nodded, too overcome for speech. “To-night—she always comes to me at night since my engagement—I shall tell her.”
“What?”
“Ah! What? If you can suggest anything?”
Tiddy sat down, placed her head between her hands, and stared in her turn at the pattern on the carpet, which happened to be pale roses upon a pale grey ground. Lady Selina had chosen it. Cicely walked to the open window, astoundingly self-possessed.
After a minute’s concentrated thought Tiddy said quickly.
“You can’t tell her about Mr. Grimshaw?”