I’m sorry—I shan’t be many minutes more. I’m afraid—” she actually achieved a slight, deprecating laugh—“Nigel interrupted me with a certain amount of—of cousinly enthusiasm.” If he had looked silly or started stammering excuses she would never have forgiven him. But he did neither of these. He looked coolly across at the pale, angry woman in the doorway, and observed, with his lazy, charming smile, “Rachel refuses to accept me as an uncle—which, as her aunt’s brother, is something like what I am, I suppose. We’ve compromised on a sort of cousinship. Did you come for this list—or were you looking for me?” However great the shock she had received, Fiona McGrath was not one to show less self-possession than anyone else. She also smiled—though coldly—and said, “The list will do when it’s ready. My brother wanted to talk to you, Nigel—about your work, I believe. He’s been trying to persuade me that we should back you. But well, you’d better discuss it with him He’s the one who makes the decisions here.”
