‘I didn’t mean anything. Don’t listen to what I say. It’s only—it’s just Alice knowing, that was all; I mean at once.’
‘Don’t for a moment suppose I am not perfectly aware that it is only Alice you think of. You were particularly anxious about my feelings, weren’t you? You broke the news to me with the tenderest solicitude. I am glad our—our daughter shares my husband’s love.’
‘Look here,’ said Lawford densely, ‘you know that I love you as much as ever; but with this—as I am; what would be the good of my saying so?’ Mrs Lawford took a deep breath.
And a voice called softly at the door, ‘Mother, are you there? Is father awake? May I come in?’
In a flash the memory returned to her; twenty-four hours ago she was asking that very question of this unspeakable figure that sat hunched-up before her.
‘One moment, dear,’ she called. And added in a very low voice, ‘Come here!’
Lawford looked up. ‘What?’ he said.
‘Perhaps, perhaps,’ she whispered, ‘it isn’t quite so bad.’
‘For mercy’s sake, Sheila,’ he said, ‘don’t torture me; tell the poor child to go away.’
She paused. ‘Are you there, Alice? Would you mind, father says, waiting a little? He is so very tired.’