d, what is even more revolting at
her age, a double chin. She received me with her lips pursed up, and
her eyes on the ground, and she was insolent enough to say that she
would pray for me. I am not a furious old man with a long white
beard, and I don't curse my daughter and rush out into a thunderstorm
afterward--but _I_ know what King Lear felt, and _I_ have struggled with
hysterics just as he did. With your wonderful insight into human nature,
I am sure you will sympathize with and forgive me. Mr. Penrose, as my
daughter tells me, behaved in the most gentleman-like manner. I make
the same appeal to your kind forbearance. The bare prospect of our dear
friend here becoming a Catholic--"

Romayne's temper gave way once more.

"If anything can make me a Catholic," he said, "your interference will
do it."

"Out of sheer perversity, dear Romayne?"

"Not at all, Mrs. Eyrecourt. If I became a Catholic, I might escape from
the society of ladies, in the refuge of a monastery."

Mrs. Eyrecourt hit him back again with the readiest dexterity.

"Remain a Protestant, my dear, and go to your club. There is a refuge
for you from the ladies--a monastery, with nice little dinners, and all
the newspapers and periodicals." Having launched this shaft, she got
up, and recovered her easy courtesy of look and manner. "I am so much
obliged to you, Father Benwell. I have not offended you, I hope and
trust?"

"You have done me a service, dear Mrs. Eyrecourt. But for your salutory
caution, I _might_ have drifted into controversial subjects. I shall be
on my guard now."

"How very good of you! We shall meet again, I hope, under more agreeable
circumstances. After that polite allusion to a monastery, I understand
that my visit to my son-in-law may as well come to an end. Please don't
forget five o'clock tea at my house."

As she approached the door, it was opened from the outer side. Her
daughter met her half-way. "Why are you here, mamma?" Stella asked.

"Why, indeed, my love! You had better leave the room with me. Our
amiable Romayne's present idea is to relieve himself of our society by
retiring to a monastery. Don't you see Father Benwell?"

Stella coldly returned the priest's bow--and looked at Romayne. She felt
a vague forewarning of what had happened. Mrs. Eyrecourt proceeded to
enlighten her, as an appropriate expression of gratitude. "We are indeed
indebted to Father Benwell, my dear. He has been most considerate and
kind--"