It was plain that Sir Richard considered the question an impertinence. “I have acquaintances in the neighbourhood, sir. I scarcely think I need trouble you with the reasons which led me to break a journey which cannot be other than—er—excessively distasteful to me. Pen, make your bow!”
“Pen?” repeated the Major, glaring at her.
“He was named after the great Quaker,” explained Sir Richard.
“Indeed! Then I would have you know, sir, that his behaviour scarcely befits his name!”
“You are perfectly right,” agreed Sir Richard. “I regret to say that he has been a constant source of anxiety to his widowed parent.”
“He seems very young,” said the Major, scanning Pen critically.
“But, alas, old in sin!”
The Major was slightly taken aback. “Oh, come, come, sir! I daresay it is not as bad as that! One must make allowances for young people. To be sure, it is very reprehensible, and I do not by any means exonerate my daughter from blame, but the springtime of life, you know, sir! Young people take such romantic notions into their heads—not but what I am excessively shocked to learn of clandestine meetings! But when two young persons fall in love, I believe—”
“In love!” interpolated Sir Richard, apparently thunderstruck.
“Well, well, I daresay you are surprised! One is apt to fancy the birds always too young to leave the nest, eh? But—”