Jenny burst out laughing. "And may I ask which of the guests to-night struck you as being particularly mouldy?"
But Mrs. Wick was serious. "Don't try to be funny, Jenny," she answered gravely. "It really struck me that it is strange, when you come to think of it, how important we all feel, and what rubbish we all are." After a minute she added, with apparent irrelevance, "That Violet Walbridge of yours is a fine, brave little soul, Olly. I like her."
"I knew you would. And what," the young man added, "did you think of your future daughter-in-law?"
"She's very pretty, but—you'll be annoyed with me for saying so—but I should like her better if she were more like her mother."
The young man gave her a little squeeze. "Her mother's twice the woman she is, of course. But then, on the other hand," he added, "she's young, and has plenty of time to improve."
The cab had stopped at Baker Street Station, and as he jumped out and turned to help the old lady, he added, "You wouldn't like me to marry Mrs. Walbridge, even if she was free, would you? She really is a little too old for me!"