"You don't think that there's really very much the matter with Mrs. Franklin?"

"Oh, I shouldn't like to say that. It's just a suspicion. She always seems able to do anything she wants to do."

I reflected in silence for a minute or two. It struck me that Miss Cole seemed very well acquainted with the ramifications of the Franklin menage. I asked with some curiosity:

"You know Dr. Franklin well, I suppose?"

She shook her head.

"Oh no. I had only met them once or twice before we met here."

"But he has talked to you about himself, I suppose?" Again she shook her head.

"No, what I have just told you I learnt from your daughter Judith." Judith, I reflected with a moment's bitterness, talked to everyone except me. Miss Cole went on:

"Judith is terrifically loyal to her employer and very much up in arms on his behalf Her condemnation Of Franklin's selfishness is sweeping." too, think she is selfish?"

. but I can see her point of view. I - I - understand invalids. I can understand, too, Dr. Franklin's giving way to her. Judith, of course, thinks he should park his wife anywhere and get on with the job. Your daughter's a very enthusiastic scientific worker."

"I know," I said rather disconsolately. "It worries me sometimes. It doesn't seem natural, if you know what I mean. I feel she ought to be - more human - more keen on having a good time. Amuse herself - fall in love with a nice boy or two. After all, youth is the time to have one's fling - not to sit poring over test tubes. It isn't natural. In our young days we were having fun - flirting - enjoying ourselves - you know."

There was a moment's silence. Then Miss Cole said in a queer cold voice:

"I don't know."

I was instantly horrified. Unconsciously I had spoken as though she and I were contemporaries - but I realized suddenly that she was well over ten years my junior and that I had been unwittingly extremely tactless.

I apologized as best I could. She cut into my stammering phrases.

"No, no, I didn't mean that. Please don't apologize. I meant just simply what I said. I don't know. I was never what you mean by 'young.' I never had what is called 'a good time.' "

Something in her voice, a bitterness, a deep resentment, left me at a loss. I said rather lamely but with sincerity:

"I'm sorry."

She smiled.

"Oh, well, it doesn't matter. Don't look so upset. Let's talk about something else." I obeyed.

"Tell me something about the other people here," I said. "Unless they're all strangers to you."

"I've known the Luttrells all my life. It's rather sad that they should have to do this - especially for him. He's rather a dear. And she's nicer than you'd think. It's having had to pinch and scrape all her life that has made her rather - well - predatory. If you're always on the make, it does tell in the end. The only thing I do rather dislike about her is that gushing manner."