I was at a loss to think of anything that would calm her.
“He is my best and oldest friend,” I said.
“You always have put him before me,” she cried.
“My dear, you speak as if you were jealous! It’s absurd . . .”
“I heard what you said to him.”
“Then you couldn’t have heard more than about six words. I said I’d be with him . . .”
“And wasn’t that enough? Wasn’t it enough when I knew he wanted you? I’m not jealous; I’m terrified! Don’t I know what he said to you? He’s in trouble and he wants to drag you into it. But he shan’t, he shan’t!”
I sat down by Barbara’s side and told her, so far as I could remember, word for word all that O’Rane had said to me.
“You know what Fleet Street rumours are,” I ended, though I felt it was unfortunate that this rumour of rioting in Hampstead had followed so disquieting soon on Sonia’s jaunty account of her meeting with Griffiths.
“If there weren’t danger, you wouldn’t think it necessary to go. It’s no good lying to me, George. I’ve lived with you too long not to know something about you. I ask you to stay.”