"People here can't have much to put in their letters."
"Oh, they'll make room for gossip. People always will. Always. But I'm not going to dwell on that side of things, because I know you don't care what anyone says. It's the wrongness of it.... A married man.... Even if his wife divorces him! It would be in the papers.... And if she doesn't you can't ever marry him.... Do you care for the man?"
"What man?"
"Don't quibble. Stephen Lumley, of course."
"Stephen Lumley is a friend of mine. I'm fond of him."
"I don't believe you do love him. I believe it's all recklessness and perversity. Lawlessness. That's what Mr. Cradock said."
"Mr. Cradock?" Nan's eyebrows went up.
Mrs. Hilary flushed a brighter scarlet. The colour kept running over her face and going back again, all the time she was talking.
"Your psycho-analyst doctor," said Nan, and her voice was a little harder and cooler than before. "I suppose you had an interesting conversation with him about me."
"I have to tell him everything," Mrs. Hilary stammered. "It's part of the course. I did consult him about you. I'm not ashamed of it. He understands about these things. He's not an ordinary man."