'Fricker!' she exclaimed triumphantly.
'There is every reason to believe so—every reason.' There was at least one very good one—namely, that Mrs. Bonfill had pieced together Mr. Fricker's letter, read it, and communicated the contents to Lady Barmouth. Lord Barmouth saw no need to be explicit on this point; he had refused to read the letter himself, or to let Mrs. Bonfill speak to him about it. It is, however, difficult for a man not to listen to his wife.
'Well, you never were enthusiastic about the match, were you?'
'She wasn't quite one of us, but I had come to like her.' He paused, and then, after a struggle, broke out candidly, 'I feel sorry for her, Viola.'
'It does you credit,' said Lady Blixworth, and she really thought it did.
'In a sense she is to be pitied. It is inevitable that a man like Mortimer should require much from the woman who is to be his wife. It is inevitable. She couldn't reach his standard.'
'Nor yours.'
'Our standard for him is very high, very high.' He sighed. 'But I'm sorry for her.'
'What does Sarah say?'
Lord Barmouth looked a little puzzled. He leant forward and observed confidentially, 'It seems to me, Viola, that women of high principle occasionally develop a certain severity of judgment—I call it a severity.'