“What is true, my dear?”

“That we are much less well off than I had ever suspected.”

“I am afraid that is true, Lionel.”

“Surely you know, mother?”

“Not everything.”

“Good Lord!”

“The mortgage has always eaten into his peace of mind.”

“The mortgage? I never knew there was a mortgage.”

“That is why I sit with my back to the portrait of your great-grandfather.”

She explained matters to a wondering son. He listened impatiently, tapping the carpet with his foot, irritated perhaps unduly because of his own ignorance and impotence. When Lady Pomfret had finished, he tried, for her sake, to speak lightly—