Frank was late. And just before dinner he telephoned to Dorothy that he couldn't be with her before nine and that he would only have one hour to give her.
Frances and Anthony looked at each other. But Dorothy looked at Veronica.
"What's the matter, Ronny? You look simply awful."
"Do I? My head's splitting. I think I'll go and lie down."
"You'd better."
"Go straight to bed," said Frances. "and let Nanna bring you some hot soup."
But Veronica did not want Nanna and hot soup. She only wanted to take herself and her awful look away out of Dorothy's sight.
"Well," said Anthony, "if she's going to worry herself sick about Nicky now--"
Frances knew that she was not worrying about Nicky.
It was nine o'clock.