Her sister slowly turned back the frill from her wrist and examined the scarlet stain of Bernard’s finger-print.  “Does it show so plainly?  I hope other people haven’t noticed.  Bernard doesn’t remember how strong his hands still are.”

“Doesn’t care, you mean.”

“Do you want me quite naked?” said Laura.  “Well, doesn’t care, then.”

Yvonne was not accustomed to the smart of pity.  She winced under it, and her tongue, an edge-tool of intelligence or passion, but not naturally prone to express tenderness, became more than ever articulate.  “Sorry!” she said with difficulty, and then, “Didn’t want to rake all this up.  But I’m fond of you.  We’ve always been pals, you and I, Lulu.”

“Say whatever you like.”

“Then—­” she sat up, throwing away her cigarette-"I’m going to warn you.  All Chilmark believes Lawrence is your lover.”

“And do you?”

“No.  I know you wouldn’t run an intrigue.”

“Thank you.”

“But Jack and I both think, if you don’t want to cut and run with him, you ought to pack him off.  Mind, if you do want to, you can count me in, and Jack too.  I’m not religious:  Jack is, but he’s not narrow.  As for the social bother of it—­marriage is a useful institution and all that, but it’s perfectly obvious that one can get—­over the rails and back again if one has money.  There aren’t twenty houses (worth going to) in London that would cut you if you turned up properly remarried to a rich man.”

“Are you . . . recommending this course?”

“I’d like you to be happy.”

“And what about Bernard?”

“Put in a couple of good trained nurses who wouldn’t give him his head as you do, and he’d be a different man by the spring.”

“He certainly would,” said Laura drily.  “He would be dead.”

“Not he.  He’s far too strong to die of being made uncomfortable.  As a matter of fact it would do him all the good in the world,” pursued Yvonne calmly.  “He cries out to be bullied.  What’s so irritating in the present situation is that though you let him rack you to pieces you never give him what he wants!  You don’t shine as a wife, my dear.”

“It will end in my sending Lawrence away,” said Laura with a subdued sigh.  “I didn’t want to because in many ways he has done Bernard so much good; no one else has ever had the same influence over him; besides, I liked having him at Wanhope for my own sake—­he freshened us up and gave us different things to talk about, outside interests, new ideas.  And after all, so far as Bernard himself is concerned, one is as good as another.  He always has been jealous and always will be.  But if all Chilmark credits us with the rather ignominious feat of betraying him, Lawrence will have to go.”

“Lawrence may have something to say to that.”