"But I tell you she isn't right," insisted Percival, warmly.
"Oh, I see," said the younger Milbrey—his face clearing all at once. "It's all right, dad, come on!"
"If you insist," said Percival, "but none of us can meet her."
"It's all right, dad—I understand—"
"Nor can we know any one who receives her."
"Really, sir," began the elder Milbrey, "your effrontery in assuming to dictate the visiting list of my family is overwhelming."
"If you won't take my word I shall have to dictate so far as I have any personal control over it."
"Don't mind him, dad—I know all about it, I tell you—I'll explain later to you."
"Why," exclaimed Percival, stung to the revelation, "that woman, this woman now waiting with your wife and daughter, was my—"
"Stop, Mr. Bines—not another word, if you please!" The father raised his hand in graceful dismissal. "Let this terminate the acquaintance between our families! No more, sir!" and he turned away, followed by his son. As they walked out through the grounds and turned up the street the young man spoke excitedly, while his father slightly bent his head to listen, with an air of distant dignity.