Sylvia, her long arm held out from a yard or so away, was stretching out her hand to Valentine’s mother. With her clear, high, unembarrassed voice she exclaimed, also from a yard or so away, so as to be heard by everyone in the room:
‘You’re Mrs Wannop. The great writer. I’m Christopher Tietjens’ wife.’
The old lady, with her dim eyes, looked up at the younger woman towering above her.
‘You’re Christopher’s wife!’ she said. ‘I must kiss you for all the kindness he has shown me’
Valentine felt her eyes filling with tears. She saw her mother stand up, place both her hands on the other woman’s shoulders. She heard her mother say:
‘You’re a most beautiful creature. I’m sure you’re good!’
Sylvia stood, smiling faintly, bending a little to accept the embrace. Behind the Macmasters, Tietjen
