Is the car all right?” Diana asked anxiously; and Bridget, having reassured her on this point, and apologising vaguely for having been so long, subsided into one of the big chairs to consider what, if anything, to reveal about her recent adventures. It seemed wiser, just for the moment, to keep quiet about it. It could only trigger off another spasm of Norah’s maternal anxieties, and might well be disastrous if Mervyn were to come back in the middle of it, as he well might do. Besides, she needed time to concoct a slightly modified version of events which would not reveal her own panic. For she was the strong one, was she not? She was the no-nonsense one who would never panic about anything, and she preferred it to stay that way. Meanwhile Norah, re-united with her reading-glasses, was peering anxiously at the script before her, bringing it first close up to her face, and then an arm’s length away. “It’s terribly small – the writing,”
