‘Aunt Bed –?’
Her mouth shut like a trap. An extraordinary expression came into her face. Fury? Troy wondered. Fury certainly but something else? Could it possibly be some faint hint of gratification? Without a word she handed the paper to her nephew.
As Hilary read it his eyebrows rose. He opened his mouth, shut it, re-read the message, and then, to Troy’s utter amazement, made a stifled sound and covered his mouth. He stared wildly at her, seemed to pull himself together and in a trembling voice said: ‘This is – no – I mean – this is preposterous. My dear Aunt Bed!’
‘Don’t call me THAT!’ shouted his aunt.
‘I’m most dreadfully sorry. I always do – oh! Oh! I see.’
‘Fred. Are you better?’
‘I’m all right now, thank you, B. It was just one of my little goes. It wasn’t – that thing that brought it on, I do assure you. Hilly’s quite right, my dear. It is preposterous. I’m very angry, of course, on your account, but it is
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