She had taken no pains so far to curb her language for the sake of her husband's feelings. But as she gave vent to the last acid phrase she felt a sudden compunction. For David was looking straight before him into vacancy, with a painful intensity in the eyes, and a curious droop and contraction of the mouth. Why did he so often worry himself about Louie? He had done all he could, anyway.
She got up and went over to him with his tea. He woke up from his absorption and thanked her.
'Is it right?'
'Just right!' he said, tasting it. 'All the same, Lucy, it would be really nice of you to be kind to her and poor little Cecile. It won't be easy for either of us having Louie here.'
He began to cut up his bread with sudden haste, then, pausing again, he went on in a low voice. 'But if one leaves a task like that undone it makes a sore spot, a fester in the mind.'
She went back to the place in silence.
'What day is it to be?' she said presently. Certainly they both looked dejected.
'The 16th, isn't it? I wonder who the Manchester acquaintance was. He must have given a rose-coloured account. We aren't so rich as all that, are we, wife?'
He glanced at her with a charming half-apprehensive smile, which made his face young again. Lucy looked ready to cry.
'I know you'll get out of buying that coat,' she said with energy, as though referring to an already familiar topic of discussion between them.