“And you found her?”
“Oh, yes. She was sitting in the garden.”
There was a short silence. Then Otto flung up his left hand, caught a gnat that was buzzing round his head, and laughed—a dreary little sound.
“It’s quite true—she’s in love with him.”
“With Douglas Falloden?”
Otto nodded.
“She was awfully cut up when I told her—just for him. She didn’t cry of course. Our generation doesn’t seem to cry—like Lady Laura. But you could see what she wanted.”
“To go to him?”
“That’s it. And of course she can’t. My word, it is hard on women! They’re hampered such a lot—by all their traditions. Why don’t they kick ’em over?”
“I hope she will do nothing of the kind,” said Sorell with energy. “The traditions may just save her.”