The Duchess flung upon him a kindly satiric glance, then, turning from him, bent her sharp little eyes upon Rachel, leaning forward upon her cane so that it appeared that it was now only with Rachel that she had any concern.
"Had I known that my few careless words!"—She broke off with a little impatient gesture.
"Ah! Rachel, my dear, I'm truly sorry. My stupidity...."
But Rachel, her eyes upon Roddy, had got up, had moved across to Roddy's sofa, and stood there, above him. Her eyes moved, then, slowly to her grandmother.
"There was no need," she said, her voice low and trembling, "for this. If I'd done, as I should, it couldn't have happened. I'm responsible for all of it and only I. Roddy has got you here on false pretences, grandmamma. If you'd rather go now...."
"Thank you," the Duchess said, "I'd much rather stay. It amuses me to see you all together here."
"Then," said Rachel, "I'll say what I ought to have said before. Roddy," turning passionately round to him, "you shall have everything—everything—from the very beginning. Mr. Breton—Francis—will agree that that's what we should have done—long ago."
Breton made a movement as though he would rise, then stayed.
"Aren't we, my dear Rachel," said the Duchess, "making a great deal of a very small affair?"
But Rachel, speaking only to Roddy, sinking her voice and bending a little down to him, began, "Roddy, one thing you've got to know—it's been from the beginning only myself that was to blame. Francis"—she paused, for an instant, over the name—"Francis, please," as he moved again from his corner, "let me tell Roddy...."