"Oh.
Paul, what are we going to do?" she cried.
Paul was irritated by that. He hated to be asked direct questions as
to policy.
"What do you mean what are we going to do?" he asked.
"Why, about this--about everything. We shall have to leave Skeaton,
you know. Fancy what people are saying!"
Suddenly, as though the thought of the scandal was too much for her,
her knees gave way and she flopped into a chair.
"Well. let them say!" he answered vigorously. "Grace, you're making
too much of all this. You'll be ill if you aren't careful. Pull
yourself together." "Of course we've got to go," she answered. "If
you think that we can go on living here after all that's happened--"
"Well, why not?" he interrupted. "We haven't done anything. It's
only--"
"I know what you're going to say." (It was one of Grace's most
irritating habits that she finished other people's sentences for
them in a way that they had not intended) "that if they look at it
properly they'll see that it wasn't our fault. But will they look at
it properly? Of course they won't. You know what cats they are.
They're only waiting for a chance.
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