Brian approached the sofa.
“Shall we cart out this stuff?” he asked.
“One moment.”
Brian’s blue eyes lingered upon his mother’s serious face.
“Hullo! What’s up? You look portentous.”
“I am worried, my dear.”
“Poor old Mums! What about?”
She hesitated, glancing at the parson now erect upon the hearthrug and smiling blandly. As a rule, Lady Selina acted after much indecision, and discussed—not too often—her actions afterwards. But at this particular moment she felt upset, cornered by circumstances, upon the sharp horns of a dilemma. She had never evicted a tenant. To do so was intolerably unpleasant. But these Extons, complaining behind her back, for ever leaving undone what they had promised to do, exasperated her beyond bearing. She answered her son quietly:
“The Extons. Tell me your candid opinion of Ephraim Exton.”
Brian replied promptly: