Mrs. Batty's tightly gloved hand made a movement. She was a little in
awe of the Miss Malletts. With them she was always conscious of her
inferior descent. No General had ever ornamented her family, and her
marriage with James Batty had been a giddy elevation for her, but she
was by no means humble. She had her place in local society: she had a
fine house in that exclusive part of Radstowe called The Slope, and
her husband was a member of the oldest firm of lawyers in the city.

'You are very naughty, Miss Caroline,' she said, knowing that was the
remark looked for. She gave a little nod of her flower-covered head.
'And we've just got to put up with them, whatever they are.'

'Yes, yes, poor dears,' Sophia murmured. 'They're different, they
can't help it.'

'Nonsense,' Caroline retorted, 'they're just the same, there's nothing
to choose between me and Reginald--nothing except discretion!'

'Oh, Caroline dear!' Sophia entreated.

'Discretion!' Caroline repeated firmly, and Mrs. Batty, bending
forward stiffly because of her constricting clothes, and with a creak
and rustle, ventured to ask in low tones, 'Have you any news of Mr.
Mallett lately?' The three elder ladies murmured together; Rose,
indifferent, concerned with her own thoughts, ate a creamy cake. This
was one of the conversations she had heard before and there was no
need for her to listen.

She was roused by the departure of Mrs. Batty.