"What is it, Lydia?"
"Don't you think that Daisy wants a little looking after?"
"In what way?"
"Of course I may be mistaken in my suspicions. But I think I am not. I will assume that I am not."
"Well, Lydia?"
"She and Mr. Raynor are flirting desperately."
Mrs. St. Clare made no reply whatever. Her eyes fixed inquiringly on Lydia's, kept their gaze for a moment or so, and then fell on the magazine pages again. Lydia felt a little astonished: was this indignation or indifference?
"Did you understand me, mamma?"
"Perfectly, my dear."
"Then—I really do not comprehend you. Don't you consider that Daisy ought to be restrained?"