‘Then it was not a dream?’
‘Oh no,’ said Sheila.
‘What did I say? What did he say? It was hopeless, anyhow.’
‘I don’t quite understand what you mean by “hopeless,” Arthur. And must I answer the other questions?’
Lawford drew his hand over his face, like a tired child. ‘He didn’t—believe?’
‘No, dear,’ said Sheila softly.
‘And you, Sheila?’ came the subdued voice.
Sheila crossed slowly to the window. ‘Well, quite honestly, Arthur, I was not very much surprised. Whatever we are agreed about on the whole, you were scarcely yourself last night.’
Lawford shut his eyes, and re-opened them full on his wife’s calm scrutiny, who had in that moment turned in the light of the one drawn blind to face him again.
‘Who is? Always?’