“Don’t interrupt your sister, Noll,” said Major Winchester.—“Well, Florence?”
“Well?” she repeated. ”‘Ill,’ I say. What more do you want, Rex? Haven’t I told you enough?”
“Who are these unfortunate people?” he asked after a moments pause. “What is their name?”
“Wentworth,” said Alicia. Florence didn’t seem inclined to speak. “Mrs and Miss Wentworth. The mother herself can’t be very old, I fancy, and the daughter, as we said, is only seventeen or eighteen.”
“Poor little soul!” said Major Winchester.
Florence faced round upon him.
“Now Rex,” she said, “if you call that comforting me, and—”
“I never said I was going to comfort you,” he said. “I never had the very slightest intention of doing anything of the kind, I can assure you. You don’t need comforting, and if you think you do, it only proves the more that you don’t.”
“What do I need, then?” she asked more submissively than she would have spoken to many. “Scolding?”
“Something like it,” he began. But here he was interrupted. Both Alicia and Oliver turned to leave the room.