y anything more embarrassing."

"Of course Tim has a mighty easy time of it, by comparison."

"Does he necessarily know anything about it?"

"He must have heard of it. It wasn't a secret, though it wasn't
announced in the papers. These things get talked about. Besides, she
would tell him."

"Tell him? Of course she would! She would tell him that that young
Torrens was a 'great admirer' of hers."

"Yes--I suppose she _would_ make use of some expression of that sort.
Capital things, expressions!"

Aunt Constance seemed to think this phrase called for some sort of
elucidation. "I always feel grateful," said she, "to that
Frenchman--Voltaire or Talleyrand or Rochefoucauld or somebody--who said
language was invented to conceal our thoughts. That was what you meant,
wasn't it?"

"Precisely. I suppose Sir Torrens--this chap's papa--told the lady he
married ..."

"She was a Miss Abercrombie, I believe."

"Yes--I believe she was.... Told her he was a great admirer of her
ladyship once on a time--a boyish freak--that sort of thing! Pretends
all the gilt is off the gingerbread now. Wish I had been there when Sir
Hamilton turned up at the Towers, after the accident."

"I _was_ there."

"Well! And then?"

"Nothing and then. They were--just like anybody else. When I saw them
was after his son had begun to pull round. Till then I fancy neither he
nor the sister ..."

"Irene. ''Rene,' he calls her. Jolly sort of girl, and very handsome."

"Neither Irene nor her father came downstairs much. It was after you
went away."

"And what did they say?--him and Philippa, I mean."

"Oh--say? What _did_ they say? Really I can't remember. Said what a long
time it was since they met. Because I don't believe they _had_ met--not
to shake hands--for five-and-twenty years!"

"What a rum sort of experience! Do you know?... only of course one can't
say for certain about anything of this sort ..."

"Do I know? Go on."

"I was going to say that if I had been them, I should have burst out
laughing and said what a couple of young asses we were!" The Hon.
Percival was very colloquial, but syntax was not of the essence of the
contract, if any existed.

Aunt Constance was not in the mood to pooh-pooh the _tendresses_ of a
youthful passion. She was, if you will have it so, sentimental. "Let me
think if I should," said she, with a momentary action of closing her
eyes, to keep inward thought free of the outer world. In a moment they
were