Sayers,” said Mrs. Byles-Bondish. “Apart from a singular outburst of hysterics over Frederica’s wedding which, by the way, was a resounding social success, you no longer seem to care a rap for her.” Mrs. Sayers sulkily jabbed her needle into a tired piece of petit point and did not deign to answer. “Further,” pursued Mrs. Byles-Bondish, “I find it odd that when the girl ran away from home, however much it was glossed over by Mrs. Cholmley’s belated invitation, you did not turn a hair or call in the Runners.” “She is an odd child,” snapped Mrs. Sayers. “When we were in Harrogate, she was always escaping from the house. I am well rid of her.” Mrs. Byles-Bondish shook her head in amazement and appealed to Clarissa who had just come into the room after driving with the Honorable Jack Ferrand. “Dear child! Do speak to your obstinate mother. She will have nothing to do with Frederica and as Duchess of Westerland the girl holds a powerful social position which could be of inestimable value to you.”
