"This," remarked Otterburn, somewhat annoyed, "is a lecture on the use and abuse of epigrams. I don't want to know about epigrams, but I do want to know about Lady Errington. Your two-word description is no doubt witty, but it doesn't answer any of my questions."
"Pardon me, it answers the whole three."
"I don't see it."
"Listen then, oh groper in Cimmerian gloom. You ask if Lady Errington is young--of course, the Madonna is always painted young. Is she pretty? The Madonna, as you will see in Italian pictures, is absolutely lovely. Is she rich? My dear lad, we well know Mary was the wife of a carpenter, and therefore poor in worldly wealth. Ergo, I have answered all your questions by the use of the phrase incomplete Madonna."
"A very whimsical explanation at best, besides, you have answered more than I asked by the use of the word incomplete--why is Lady Errington incomplete?"
"Because she is not yet a mother."
"Oh, confound your mystic utterances," cried the Master, comically, "do descend from your cloudy heights and tell me what you mean. I gather from your extremely hazy explanation that Lady Errington is young, pretty, and poor, also that she is not a mother. So far so good. Proceed, but for heaven's sake no more epigrams."
"I'm afraid the beauty of an epigram is lost on you Macjean?"
"Entirely! I am neither a poet nor a student, so don't waste your eloquence on me."
"Well, I won't," answered Gartney, smiling. "I'll have pity on your limited understanding and tell you all about Alizon Errington's marriage in plain English."