“Arrange them for me, dear, whilst I finish my hair.”
She returned to the looking-glass, and Felicia remained by the table busy with the flowers.
“I went as far as the library with Mr. Chetwynd,” said Felicia. “I told him he ought not to go out to-day, but he would go. When 'Raine,' as he calls him, comes, I shall have to talk to him seriously about his father.”
“The son has definitely settled to come, then?” asked Katherine, with a hair-pin between her lips.
“Oh, yes. Mr. Chetwynd can talk of nothing else. He will be here quite soon.”
“It will be a good thing,” said Katherine.
“Yes; it will do the dear old man good.”
Ordinarily Katherine would have smiled at the ingenuousness of the reply; but this morning her nerves were unstrung.
“I wasn't thinking of him. I was thinking of ourselves—us women.”
“I wonder what he'll be like,” said Felicia.