“When they picked him up—are you going, Rose?”
“Only for a few minutes. I am sorry. I’ll write to the dear mother.”
She went quietly out of the room. Dion sprang up to open the door for her, but she had been sitting nearer to the door than he, and he was too late; he shut it, however, and came slowly back to Beatrice.
“I wonder——” He looked at Beatrice’s pale face and earnest dark eyes. “D’you think Rosamund disliked my mentioning poor Omar’s being killed?”
“No.”
“But didn’t she leave us rather abruptly?”
“I think perhaps she didn’t want to hear any details. You were just beginning to—”
“How stupid of me!”
“You see, Rosamund has the child to live for now.”
“Yes—yes. What blunderers we men are, however much we try—”