“Exactly so, Mama. You see, it is the impropriety, sir—I mean, my mother is not quite herself.”
“I shall never,” announced the matron, “hold up my head again! It is my belief that this person is in league with her!”
“Mama, most earnestly I implore you—!”
“Her?” repeated Sir Richard, apparently bewildered.
“Him!” corrected Mr Griffin.
“You must forgive me if I do not perfectly understand you,” said Sir Richard. “I apprehend that you have—er—mislaid a youth, and have come—”
“Precisely so, sir! We mis—at least, no, no, we did not mislay him, of course!”
“Ran away!” uttered Mrs Griffin, emerging from the handkerchief for a brief instant.
“Ran away,” corroborated her son.
“But in what way,” enquired Sir Richard, “does this concern me, sir?”