“He’s not my son. He’s—he’s a friend. He’s engaged to Adeline, to the elder Miss Glendower. He was stopping here for a night or so. I daresay he’ll come again on his way back from Paris. Dear me! Fancy my having a son like that!”
The Sea Lady was not quite prompt in replying.
“What a stupid mistake for me to make!” she said slowly; and then with more animation, “Of course, now I think, he’s much too old to be your son!”
“Well, he’s thirty-two!” said Mrs. Bunting with a smile.
“It’s preposterous.”
“But I saw him only at a distance, you know,” said the Sea Lady; and then, “And so he is engaged to Miss Glendower? And Miss Glendower——?”
“Is the young lady in the purple robe who——”
“Who carried a book?”
“Yes,” said Mrs. Bunting, “that’s the one. They’ve been engaged three months.”