“ But didn’t he?” asked Lady Caroline—every bit as shamelessly unreticent as Mrs. Wilkins.
“ Mellersh? He showed no signs of it.”
“ Delicious,” murmured Lady Caroline.
“ Really—” said Mrs. Fisher.
“ I didn’t think it was at all delicious. I was miserable. And now, since I’ve been here, I simply stare at myself being miserable. As miserable as that. And about Mellersh.”
“ You mean he wasn’t worth it.”
“ Really—” said Mrs. Fisher.
“ No, I don’t. I mean I’ve suddenly got well.”
Lady Caroline, slowly twisting the stem of her glass in her fingers, scrutinized the lit-up face opposite.
“ And now I’m well I find I can’t sit here and gloat all to myself. I can’t be happy, shutting him out. I must share. I understand exactly what the Blessed Damozel felt like.”
“ What
