“Doesn’t know—yet.”
Dick lifted his eyebrows. “Cecily?” he said, with some difficulty.
“Yes. Lady Wilmot called yesterday, and told both of us—in strict confidence.”
Mayne’s rather set face relaxed into a quizzical smile. Rose answered it calmly.
“Oh, yes!” she said. “But quite apart from the fact that by this time she’s told half London, I meant you in any case to know.”
Mayne looked at her. “Why?” he asked.
“I leave that to your intelligence,” said Rose, meeting his eyes steadily.
There was a long pause.
“How well Cecily looks!” she remarked presently in an ordinary tone. “She’s wildly busy, but it seems to suit her.”
“It suits most of us, I imagine,” returned Mayne, slowly.