Mrs. R. Haslam. Well, after all, it is perhaps better so.
Bishop. Better, dear lady?
Mrs. R. Haslam. I mean that you have not brought good news at the eleventh hour. Really—— (Looking at Mr. Reach Haslam.)
Mr. R. Haslam. (To whom the Bishop, puzzled, turns for an explanation.) My wife, with her novelist's instinct, perceives the situation that would be created if we had to go into the drawing-room now and say to them suddenly, "Well, you are married, after all."
Mrs. R. Haslam. Excessively delicate. They would naturally have to leave the house at once.
Bishop. Quite so. I cannot tell you how relieved I was to get your wire saying that you had overtaken them in time. Young people make such a mystery of the honeymoon nowadays that often they don't even leave a postal address. A dangerous innovation!
Mr. R. Haslam. Evidently.
Bishop. I gather that you have brought them both here, poor things!
Mrs. R. Haslam. It seemed the wisest course. I consulted my husband, and he quite agreed with me that in view of the unusual circumstances we ought to act with the greatest prudence—for their sakes! And so we motored quietly back to town and got here just in time for dinner. My son drove. I sat by his side. There wasn't room for their heavy luggage, and so Charlie is bringing that up by train. Charles is my other son.... (Sighs.) And here we are!
Bishop. Admirable! It's a case of——