They had tea in a private sitting room, and Collins laid himself out to keep her mind off the tragedy.
“You must come to a theatre to-night,” he said.
“Oh, I couldn’t possibly,” she answered.
“If I may say so, I don’t agree with you. I know what is in your mind. You don’t think it would be right after what has happened, but if you stay in, you will only brood over things and make yourself miserable, and,” he added earnestly, “I am sure your father would not have wished you to do that. I am not asking you to forget him, but you have had a bad ordeal to go through, and must keep yourself going.”
“What do you think, Eric?” she said, addressing Sanders, who had been silent during the meal.
“Of course, you must please yourself, but I should hardly have thought it was quite the thing,” he said.
There was something in his tone which annoyed her.
“Why not?” she said.
“Well,” he said, floundering. “I suppose it’s a matter of taste, but in the circumstances⸺”
She gave a toss of her head, and turned to Collins.