Lily rose and buttoned her coat. Grace was fastening her sables, and making a delayed decision in satins.
“Mother, I've been thinking it over. I am going to see Aunt Elinor.”
Grace waited until the saleswoman had moved away.
“I don't like it, Lily.”
“I was thinking, while we were ordering all that stuff. She is a Cardew, mother. She ought to be having that sort of thing. And just because grandfather hates her husband, she hasn't anything.”
“That is rather silly, dear. They are not in want. I believe he is quite flourishing.”
“She is father's sister. And she is a good woman. We treat her like a leper.”
Grace was weakening. “If you take the car, your grandfather may hear of it.”
“I'll take a taxi.”
Grace followed her with uneasy eyes. For years she paid a price for peace, and not a small price. She had placed her pride on the domestic altar, and had counted it a worthy sacrifice for Howard's sake. And she had succeeded. She knew Anthony Cardew had never forgiven her and would never like her, but he gave her, now and then, the tribute of a grudging admiration.