“Deb has eloped, with very commendable independence of spirit, I thought, but I did not say so to Miss Marcus, who seemed in deep distress of mind. Forgive me if I repeat myself, Antonia dear. Cliffe, do, I beg you, forgive me if I repeat myself, but it is all so surprising.”
“Eloped! Deb! but she’s never said a word to me!” Antonia sprang to her feet, scattering the drawings over the floor. “Whom has she eloped with?”
“Miss Marcus said ... but I really and truly doubt if she can be accurate, so perhaps I ought not to report her words—it is so very, very difficult to know what is tactful and prudent under such circumstances—but Miss Marcus said her niece had unfortunately eloped this afternoon with Mr Cliffe Kennedy!”
Antonia raised quizzical eyebrows in Cliffe’s direction. “Present appearances are in your favour, Cliffe—but still——”
Kennedy protested heatedly: “I have most emphatically not eloped with Deb! Do I look as though I’d eloped with anyone this afternoon? What nasty people those Marcuses are, taking away a fellow’s character!”
“Perhaps they did not mean it uncharitably, Cliffe; I trust indeed that if you or anyone were to elope with a daughter of mine, that I should approve heartily—though certainly elope has an old-fashioned sound. The Marcuses are slightly old-fashioned people; charming—I mean nothing to their detriment, but laggards in emancipation. Young people do not elope nowadays—they walk straight out of the dusty temple of convention on to the open heath. But pray do not allow me to be a bore; I merely wanted to assure you, Cliffe, that in repeating Miss Marcus’ comment, I in no way attach any blame to your possible complicity.”
Cliffe bent and kissed her hand in its black silk mitten.
“I regret to state, dear lady, that I’ve frequently invited a daughter of yours—I may say the daughter of yours, to step with me on to the open heath, but, deplorably archaic in her principles, she has always rigidly insisted on the prior formality of a registrar’s office.”
Mrs Verity shuddered slightly. It was one of her troubles that the late Mr Verity had succeeded in imposing upon her the legal right to bear his name, before she knew enough of life, or the New Movement, to resent it.
“Mother, you’re being selfish. I want to know about Deb?”