Miss Uniacke chuckled grimly.
"Well——" she laid her knitting down and folded her slim white hands. "I've made up my mind, Mr. McTaggart. I can't allow Jill to suffer. I'm much obliged for your kind offer but there's a better way by far. I shall go and look after Mary myself."
She said it with an air of triumph.
"It will be an excellent opportunity to break her of this Suffrage nonsense." She caught McTaggart's look of alarm. "Don't be afraid—I'm a capital nurse—I mean, of course, when she's convalescent. What she wants now is rest and sleep—and good food. Did you say they hadn't a cook?"
"I don't think so—I understand she left, furious, on the day Mrs. Uniacke went to prison."
"I don't blame her." The silk dress rustled. "Then there's only that slatternly housemaid left to help Jill?"
"So I gather—unless Stephen condescends to black the boots!"
"Ha!" The little lady snorted—"So he's about still, is he?"
McTaggart was conscious of a slip. He wished he hadn't mentioned the man.
"I can't say. I know he's at large. I don't fancy prison fare appeals to him—he's rather dainty."