Kitty made a gesture to her husband that he should leave them alone.
When he had gone:
"It's about Peter," she said, then paused unhappily.
"Yes. Go on. Peter and I are only friends now. We've—we've worked up quite a presentable sort of friendship since my illness, you know. What is there to tell me?"
"You know that Celia, his wife, has been out in India for some years.
Well—"
Nan's frail body stiffened suddenly.
"She's coming home?" she said swiftly.
Kitty nodded.
"Yes. She's been very ill with sunstroke. And she's ordered home as soon as she is able to travel."
Nan made no answer for a moment. Then she said almost under her breath:
"Poor Peter!"