“Kilman arrives just as we’ve done lunch,” she said. “Elizabeth turns pink. They shut themselves up. I suppose they’re praying.”
Lord! He didn’t like it; but these things pass over if you let them.
“In a mackintosh with an umbrella,” said Clarissa.
He had not said “I love you”; but he held her hand. Happiness is this, is this, he thought.
“But why should I ask all the dull women in London to my parties?” said Clarissa. And if Mrs. Marsham gave a party, did she invite her guests?
“Poor Ellie Henderson,” said Richard—it was a very odd thing how much Clarissa minded about her parties, he thought.
But Richard had no notion of the look of a room. However—what was he going to say?
If she worried about these parties he would not let her give them. Did she wish she had married Peter? But he must go.
He must be off, he said, getting up. But he stood for a moment as if he were about to say something; and she wondered what? Why? There were the roses.
“Some Committee?” she asked, as he opened the door.