"About Kate?" flashed the old lady, with a woman's perspective, and a mother's half-resentful pride where a grandchild is in question.
But Griff missed her point utterly.
"No; what good news could I bring of her except that she is just as much Kate as ever? It is about Laverack; you remember telling me father's relations with him?"
"Yes, I remember well. Only—it is not a topic that pleases me, Griff."
"Not if I tell you that I met him this morning, and made myself known to him, and called him a cad to his face?"
Her keen old eyes brightened.
"You did that, Griff? Yes, it is good news. It may be unchristian, but I loathe that man. And if one is framed to love well, how can one help hating with a will, too?"
"Mother, mother, I despair of you! You're a dreadful Pagan, like the rest of us," laughed the son, anxious to glance off to other topics, now that he had conveyed his piece of information.
"Well, your father was a Pagan, right through to the core of him. I have had worse examples to follow, Griff."
"Did you object to his poaching, I wonder?" said Griff, teasingly. "After he was married, I mean."