Stephen stared; he regretted sincerely that his legal habit of mind had made him put the case so clearly.
“I can't imagine,” he said, almost violently, “what possesses everybody! We—responsible! Good gracious! Because we gave Hilary some sound advice! What next?”
Cecilia turned to the empty hearth.
“Thyme has been telling me about that poor little thing. It seems so dreadful, and I can't get rid of the feeling that we're—we're all mixed up with it!”
“Mixed up with what?”
“I don't know; it's just a feeling like—like being haunted.”
Stephen took her quietly by the arm.
“My dear old girl,” he said, “I'd no idea that you were run down like this. To-morrow's Thursday, and I can get away at three. We'll motor down to Richmond, and have a round or two!”
Cecilia quivered; for a moment it seemed that she was about to burst out crying. Stephen stroked her shoulder steadily. Cecilia must have felt his dread; she struggled loyally with her emotion.
“That will be very jolly,” she said at last.