“Well, Philip is your son, so you are Philippina. But why have prize-fighters in your house?”
“Prize-fighters?”
“Yes. Lady Ellington had my head in Chancery for ten minutes just now. She delivered a series of quick-firing questions. I know why, too; it was to prevent my going on the river. She was perfectly successful—I should think she always was successful; she mowed me down. Now will you tell me the truth or not?”
“No, dear Evelyn,” said Mrs. Home rather hastily, guessing what was coming.
“Then you are a very wicked woman; but as I now know you are going to tell an untruth, it will do just as well for my purpose. Now, is Philip engaged to Miss Ellington?”
“No, dear; indeed he is not,” said Mrs. Home.
“Oh, why not lie better than that?” said Evelyn.
Mrs. Home clasped her white, delicate little hands together.
“Ah, but it is true,” she said. “It really is literally true, as far as I know.”
Evelyn shook his head at her.