“It shows how little you know Madala, either of you.”
“Does anyone? Do you?”
Anita smiled securely.
“The type’s clear, at least.” Mr. Flood looked round the circle. His
eyes shone. “_Une grande amoureuse_—that I’ve always maintained. Carey
may be the first—but he won’t be the last.”
“Is he the first? How did she come to write _The Resting-place_ then?
Tell me that!” Anita thrust at him with her forefinger and behind her,
in the corner, I saw the gesture duplicated.
“So I will when I’ve read the new book, dear lady.”
“If ever it writes itself,” Miss Howe underlined him.
“As to that—I give her a year, as I say. Once this business is over—”
his voice mellowed into kindliness—“and good luck to her, dear woman——”
“Ah, good luck!” said Miss Howe and smiled at him.
“Once it’s over, I say——”
“But she _will_ be all right, won’t she?” said the Baxter girl.
“I should certainly have been told——” began Anita.