He thought grimly that a young lady who had been married four times before she was twenty-five must have to undergo a considerable amount of mental obliteration.
"I think you'd tire of it very soon if you had to live here always," he said.
"I'm not sure," she replied. "I think—but of course you wouldn't understand that—only, life on the stage isn't all bright and amusing, and there are times when one simply longs for a quiet, old-world place like this."
"I believe you'd like Blanford," he suggested.
"I should love it," she assured him. "But what would your father say to me? I'd probably shock him out of his gaiters—if he wears them. Does he?"
"I suppose so," said Cecil. The fact was that the raiment of the Bishop of Blanford did not particularly interest him at that moment. He had more important things to talk about, things that had no connection whatsoever with the immediate future of the A. B. C. Company. Yet the mention of his father caused him to stop and think, and thought, in this case, proved fatal to sentiment. He thrust his hands into his pockets and addressed himself to the more prosaic topics of life, saying:
"My excuse for intruding on you is that our troubles are by no means over. The authorities, not content with driving us out of the United States, are preparing to order us out of Canada as well, and the question of where we are to go is decidedly perplexing."
"Oh, dear!" said the little woman, "I think I'll go into the convent after all."
"That settles the difficulty as far as you're concerned. Do you think they'd admit me?"
"Don't talk nonsense. What do the others say?"