"Well, you're not in time to see Steven. He won't be home till nine at least."
"I didn't expect to see him. He told me he'd be out."
She saw the hidden watcher in Mary's eyes looking out at her.
"When did he tell you that?"
"Last Wednesday."
The watcher hid again, suddenly appeased.
Mary busied herself with the washing of her babies. She did it thoroughly and efficiently, with no sentimental tendernesses, but with soft, sensual pattings and strokings of the white, satin-smooth skins.
And when they were tucked into their cots and disposed of for the night Mary turned to Gwenda.
"Come into my room a minute," she said.
Mary's joy was to take her sister into her room and watch her to see if she would flinch before the signs of Steven's occupation. She drew her attention to these if Gwenda seemed likely to miss any of them.