She found Hugh closeted with Henry in the library where invariably the doctor lingered. Brodrick made a sign to his brother-in-law as she entered.
"Well," he said, "you've had your talk."
"Oh yes, we've had it."
She lay back in her seat as if exhausted by hard physical exercise, supporting the limp length of her arms on the sides of the chair.
The doctor, after a somewhat prolonged observation of her posture, remarked that she should make a point of going to bed at ten.
Brodrick pleaded the Birthday of the Book. And at the memory of the intolerable scene, and of Tanqueray's presence in it, her agony broke out.
"Don't talk about it. I don't want ever to hear of it again."
"What's he been saying to you?" said Brodrick.
"He'd no need to say anything. Do you suppose I don't know? Can't you see how awful it is for me?"
Brodrick raised the eyebrows of innocence amazed.