“You must have a nurse or somebody, to look after you personally. You should really have a manservant,” said Hilda as they sat, with apparent calmness, at coffee after dinner. She spoke in her soft, seemingly gentle way, but Clifford felt she was hitting him on the head with a bludgeon.

“You think so?” he said coldly.

“I’m sure! It’s necessary. Either that, or father and I must take Connie away for some months. This can’t go on.”

“What can’t go on?”

“Haven’t you looked at the child?” asked Hilda, gazing at him full stare. He looked rather like a huge, boiled crayfish, at the moment; or so she thought.

“Connie and I will discuss it,” he said.

“I’ve already discussed it with her,” said Hilda.