She pointed to the proofs of which I had possessed myself and was eagerly scanning. Unblenching he met her gaze.
"That is the posthumous novel of Adrian Boldero, which I, as his literary executor, have revised for the press. Hilary saw the rough manuscript, but he had no time to read it."
They looked at one another for quite a long time.
"Is that all you're going to tell me?"
"That's all."
"And all you're going to tell Hilary?"
"Telling Hilary is the same as telling you."
"Naturally."
"And telling you is the same as telling Hilary."
"By no manner of means," said Barbara tartly. She took him by the sleeve. "Come and explain."