Clifford had been long enough in the hands of nurses; he hated them, because they left him no real privacy. And a manservant!⁠ ⁠… he couldn’t stand a man hanging round him. Almost better any woman. But why not Connie?

The two sisters drove off in the morning, Connie looking rather like an Easter lamb, rather small beside Hilda, who held the wheel. Sir Malcolm was away, but the Kensington house was open.