"I think she ought to have asked your permission. But I suppose when that sort of thing comes to you suddenly——"
"He ought certainly to have asked my permission," he interrupted her.
"Oh, but darling! You hardly expect that in these days, do you? He's seen her everywhere; he's been invited here. It would be enough, wouldn't it?—if he writes to you at once. Francis didn't ask you before he asked me; and you didn't mind."
"Francis is an Englishman. This fellow's a Frenchman. Things aren't done in that way in France."
'This fellow!' She didn't understand his obvious hostility. Did he know anything against Lassigny. If so, surely he must have found it out quite lately.
"Why do you object to the idea so much, darling? I think he's nice."
"Oh, nice!" he echoed. "I told you the other day that I should hate the idea of one of you marrying a foreigner."
He had told her that, and she had replied that Lassigny hardly seemed like a foreigner. It was no good saying it again. She wanted to soothe him, and to help him if she could.
"What shall you do?" she asked.
"I'm going to wire to her to come home at once—send a wire now."