CHAPTER VThe drawing-room was a haven. With the door shut upon them, the women looked at each other.
‘What is it all about?’ Brenda’s voice was at its bluntest. ‘Has he gone mad?’
Miss Paradine showed distress.
‘My dear, I don’t know any more than you do.’
‘He must be mad!’ said Brenda. ‘To get us all here to a party and then say a thing like that! It’s the limit!’
Irene had been trembling. She now burst into tears.
‘I know he thinks it’s me—and I haven’t done anything—I really haven’t. And I didn’t want to come—Frank will tell you I didn’t. He was angry with me because I wanted to stay with my baby, and I wish—oh, how I wish—I hadn’t listened to him! What does he think I’ve done? And why does he think it’s me? I don’t even know what he was talking about. Why shouldn’t it be anyone e
