hadn't mentioned Roger. She didn't now, by name. Only referred to him as 'a man who was awfully nice to me.'
'A man?' Cicely gently jibed her.
Sheilah flushed.
Cicely laughed, and hugged her, and mercifully changed the subject. 'What about some new fall clothes?'
'How good of you, Cicely! But I don't need clothes any more. I'd much rather have the money. I do so want Laetitia to be in the right environment. The summer has been wonderful for her. She's so much finer, since her summer in a place where fineness was an ideal. All the children are so improved. I've a little money of mother's, you know, and I think perhaps next year I can manage, with a little help, to send Laetitia to a private school. I do so want to.'
'Do you? Well, we must talk about it.'
They were still talking about it when Roger Dallinger's gray coupé roadster drew up behind Cicely's black limousine at exactly half-past four.
Sheilah's eyes had been on the clock for the last ten minutes, but she found herself unprepared for the buzz of the bell that made her escape from Roger impossible. She simply couldn't run away now. Circumstances had decided it for her.
