She was curled up in a chair when Nigel entered, immersed in a fashion paper.

She held out her left hand, which he raised to his lips.
"Well, Nigel, dear," she exclaimed, "what do you think of my new profession ?" "I hate it," he answered frankly.
She sighed and laid down the fashion paper resignedly.
"You always did object to a woman doing anything in the least useful.

Do you realise that if anything in the world can save this stupid old country, I have done it ?" "I realise that you've been running hideous risks," he replied.
She looked at him petulantly.
"What of it ?" she demanded.

"We all run risks when we do anything worth while." "Not quite the sort that you have been facing." She smiled thoughtfully.
"Do you know exactly where I have been ?" she asked.
"No idea," he confessed.

"What my uncle has just told me was a complete revelation, so far as I was concerned.