He raised his eyes and fixed them on her with a pleading, dog-like look. “I did go over it,” he answered. “But it would be rather absurd for just Mary and me.”!

“How far are you going?” demanded Flossie. Joan was glad of the assistance. Hilda produced pins.

“You’ll look after him if anything does happen, won’t you?” The woman’s eyes were pleading with her. They seemed to have grown larger. “You know what I mean, dear, don’t you?” she continued. “It will be such a comfort to me to know that it’s all right.” They formed a curious physical contrast, these two women in this moment. Joan, radiant, serene, sat upright in her chair, her head slightly thrown back, her fine hands clasping one another so strongly that the delicate muscles could be traced beneath the smooth white skin. Madge, with puckered brows, leant forward in a crouching attitude, her thin nervous hands stretched out towards the fire. “You’re not angry with me?” he asked. “I haven’t been rude, have I?”