She looked at him, surprised, in spite of herself. She would never have thought he'd have done it like that. He was a good sort, after all. But she didn't know why she broke out furiously:
"You infernal liar! I know. I shall be done for by the end of February—ha! ha!"
Seizing a vase of flowers, she flung it into the grate. The crash and the shrivelling of the leaves in the flames brought her an instant's relief. Then she said quietly:
"There—I've made an idiot of myself; but" (weakly) "I didn't know—I didn't know—I thought it was different."
He hesitated, embarrassed by his own emotion. Presently he went up to her and put his hands round her cheeks.
"No," she said, "that's no good, I don't want that. Get me something to drink. I feel bad."
He hurried to the cupboard and fumbled with the cork of a champagne bottle. It flew out with a bang. She started violently.
"You clumsy fool!" she exclaimed.
She drank off the wine at a gulp.
"Daisy," he began.
She was staring stonily at the empty glass.
"Daisy," he repeated.
She tapped her toe against the fender-rail.
At this sign, he went on :
"How did you know?"
"I sent Liz to listen," she answered mechanically.
He looked about him, helpless.
"I think I'll smoke," he said feebly.
She made no answer.
"Here, put the glass down," she said.