“Incense? The Virgin Mary?” she suggested, vaguely.
Martin frowned. For a moment he looked exactly like his father.
“Ah, what is the use of my telling you, if you say that sort of thing?” he asked.
“But I really haven’t an idea,” said she. “Did I say anything dreadful?”
“Frank, speak. You know,” said he. “I never know what I am talking about when I begin to talk.”
“It is only a guess.”
“You have guessed right. I believe you are always right.”
“Well, get on somebody,” said Lady Sunningdale, with a show of impatience.
“All is Beauty,” said Frank, “and knowing this is Love, and Love is Duty.”
He smiled across to Martin.