"Yes. You know he grows them on a gigantic scale."
"Well?"
"And—and they can't always be left."
"Chloe, remember I was at school with you in Paris."
The words were very simple, but Mrs. Verulam uttered them without simplicity, and Chloe flushed quickly.
"I know," she said. "But it is—it is true. Oranges require a great deal of looking after."
"Oh, dear, if you prefer to keep me in the dark, of course I sha'n't say another word. Now I am sure you would like to see your room, so I shall ring for Marriner."
Mrs. Verulam leaned forward to touch the bell, but Chloe suddenly sprang up, sat down close beside her, and took her hand.
"You are right, Daisy. It's not the oranges."