I decided to be bold.
"But you heard what I said the other day, madam. I expect his father to come round."
She uttered the queer cackle that was like a hen when it crows.
"Oh, you do, do you? You don't know Howard Brokenshire. You could break him more easily than you could bend him—and you can't break him. Good Lord, girl, I've tried!"
"But I haven't," I returned, quietly. "Now I'm going to."
"How? What with? You can't try if you've nothing to try on."
"I have."
"For Heaven's sake—what?"
I was going to say, "Right"; but I knew it would sound sententious. I had been sententious enough in talking about my country. Now I only smiled.
"You must let me keep that as a secret," I answered, mildly.