Hannay and Gorst, Ransome and another man were gathered together in a communion with the lady of the settee. There was a general lull, and her voice, a voice of sweet but somewhat penetrating quality, was heard.
"Don't talk to me," said she, "about women being jealous of each other. Do you suppose I mind another woman being handsome? I don't care how handsome she is, so long as she isn't handsome in my style. Of course, I don't say I could stand it if she was the very moral of me."
"I say, supposing Toodles met the very moral of herself?"
"Could Toodles have a moral? I doubt it."
"I want to know what she'd do with it."
"Yes, by Jove, what would you do?"
"Do? I should do my worst. I should make her sit somewhere with a good strong light on her."
"Hold hard there," said her brother-in-law (the man who called her Toodles), "Lady Cayley doesn't want that lamp lit just yet"
In the silence of the rest, the name seemed to leap straight across the room to Anne.
The two women beside her heard it, and looked at each other and at her. Anne sickened under their eyes, struck suddenly by the meaning of their protection and their sympathy. She longed to rise, to sweep them aside and go. But she was kept motionless by some superior instinct of disdain.