It was true, Hilda did not like Clifford: his cool assurance that he was somebody! She thought he made use of Connie shamefully and impudently. She had hoped her sister would leave him. But, being solid Scotch middle class, she loathed any “lowering” of oneself, or the family. She looked up at last.

“You’ll regret it,” she said.

“I shan’t,” cried Connie, flushed red. “He’s quite the exception. I really love him. He’s lovely as a lover.”

Hilda still pondered.

“You’ll get over him quite soon,” she said, “and live to be ashamed of yourself because of him.”

“I shan’t! I hope I’m going to have a child of his.”