After the silence the Duchess said, "My family—I no longer...." She stopped, collected, with all her will, her words, then in a low voice said, looking at Breton, "I owe you, I suppose—an apology. I owe that perhaps to you all. My children are wiser in their own generation. I no longer understand—the way things go—all too confused for my poor intelligence." She pulled herself together as an old ship rights itself after a roller's stinging blow. "This has lasted long enough.... We've all talked—My family are—wiser—it seems."
But she could not go on. "Please, Roddy," she said at length, "I think it's time—if you'd ring."
"I'm sorry——" he said and then stopped.
Soon Peters and a footman appeared. She leaned heavily upon them and, staring before her at the door, slowly went out.
CHAPTER IX
RACHEL AND RODDY
"Tell me, Praise, and tell me, Love,
What you both are thinking of?
O, we think, said Love, said Praise,
Now of children and their ways."
William Brighty Rand.