And there he sat, his coffee and port on a little table beside him; the house belonging to him. . . .
She said:
"My dearest boy . . . you've so much to do. Do you think you ought really to drive the girls to Plimsoll to-night? They're young and inconsiderate; work comes first."
Tietjens said:
"It isn't the distance . . ."
"You'll find that it is," she answered humorously. "It's twenty miles beyond Tenterden. If you don't start till ten when the moon sets, you won't be back till five, even if you've no accidents. . . . The horse is all right, though . . ."
Tietjens said:
"Mrs. Wannop, I ought to tell you that your daughter and I are being talked about. Uglily!"
She turned her head to him; rather stiffly. But she was only coming out of an abstraction.
"Eh?" she said, and then: "Oh! About the golf-links episode. . . . It must have looked suspicious. I daresay you made a fuss, too, with the police, to head them off her." She remained pondering for a moment, heavily, like an old pope: