He was aware of Hilary, in company with Lucilla and the comtesse’s daughter some few yards away, listening in suddenly. ‘Might have forgiven him,’ he muttered under his breath, ‘if he hadn’t taken the babe. ” They were in the elder Widgett girl’s bedroom; Hetty was laid up, she said, with a sprained ankle, and a miscellaneous party was gossiping away her tedium. He was beginning to think about her inordinately. He remembered little whispered speeches of hers, so like the Annabel of Paris, so unlike the woman he loved, a hundred little things should have told him long ago.
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