Chapter EightThey made room for her. Richard pulled up a chair. Caroline caught her hand as she passed and held it against her cheek.
‘Oh, darling—you’re still cold!’
‘It’s only my hands,’ said Rachel Treherne. Her face burned. She leaned back and screened it from the fire.
‘What were the parents talking to you about?’ said Cherry in an inquisitive voice.
They were still talking to each other at the far end of the room. Anger had loosened Rachel’s tongue. With a trace of surprise she heard herself say,
‘Something that I don’t want to go on talking about.’
Cherry’s eyes sparkled maliciously.
‘Oh, then it was Maurice. And I bet they wanted you to give him money—as usual. But if there’s any going, I’m a much more deserving object.’
‘I said I didn’t want to talk about it, Cherry.’
Mau
