When the meal was over and Edward Webb had crept quietly to his study, and Uncle George had departed to his harmonium, Theresa stood before the fire and looked down at her mother, gently rocking in the old chair.
"Do you think he has ever been in love?" she said.
"Who?" Nancy asked.
"Uncle George, of course," said Theresa.
"I don't know, dear. I never heard of anyone."
"It's not lawful to marry one's uncle, is it?"
"I suppose not." Nancy's brows were raised.
"I'm coming to the conclusion that he's rather an attractive man—and very mysterious. If I ever marry, I shall marry a mystery."
"I shouldn't advise it, dear."
"I should tire of anyone else in a year—less! I must have excitement."