"An inevitable and perpetual quarrel between father and son, a perpetual humiliation for a man who trusted you—and was wrong in doing it! Dare you do that—with what there is lying between you and Lord Fillingford?"
"What is there?"
"At least deceit, broken faith, trust betrayed, honor threatened. Is there no more?"
Jenny looked at him now with somber thoughtfulness.
"We're not children," he went on. "If there is no more, what was easier than to say so, to lay scandal to rest, to give an account of yourself? Wasn't that easy?"
"Lying is generally pretty easy," said Jenny.
He raised his hands in the air and let them fall in a despairing gesture. "You yourself have said it!"
"Yes, I have said it, Mr. Alison. You've always believed it. Now you know it. We're face to face."
"Then face to face I say to you that you're no fit wife for that young man."
"No fit companion either, perhaps?"