"Aldous!"
Lord Maxwell turned.
"Are you thinking of someone who might go to Trouville?" she asked him.
"Yes, but we can hit on no one," he replied, in perplexity.
She moved towards him, bearing herself with a peculiar erectness and dignity.
"Would it be possible to ask Sir George Tressady to go?" she said quietly.
Maxwell looked at her open-mouthed for an instant. Fontenoy, behind him, threw a sudden, searching glance at the beautiful figure in grey.
"We all know," she said, turning back to the mother, "that Ancoats likes
Sir George."
Mrs. Allison shrunk a little from the clear look. Fontenoy's rage of defeat, however modified in her presence, had nevertheless expressed itself to her in phrases and allusions that had both perplexed and troubled her. Had Marcella indeed made use of her beauty to decoy a weak youth from his allegiance? And now she spoke his name so simply.
But the momentary wonder died from the poor mother's mind.