"Rot!" said Philip, interested at last. "How do you know?"
"I was having a brief chat with Miss Jennings the other day—"
"What about?"
"We were discussing the affections, and so on," was the airy explanation; "and when in the course of conversation I happened to mention Brand's name, the poor young creature turned quite puce in the face."
"That rather sounds," commented the unsophisticated Philip, "as if the hopeless passion were on Miss Jennings's side."
Tim wagged his head sagely.
"Oh, dear, no," he said. "Not at all. In a woman, that is a most misleading symptom. She told me all about it. I notice," he added modestly, "that people confide in me a good deal."
"My son Timothy," said Philip, "you are a gossiping old wife."
"The difficulty, I gather," continued Timothy, quite unmoved by this stricture, "lies in the fact that they seem to have nothing in common whatsoever. Otherwise they are admirably matched. Socially, Miss Jennings is a young lady, while the Citizen is only a mechanic, like ourselves. In politics, Miss Jennings is a Conservative, while Brand is an Anarchist. In religion, Miss Jennings is Church of England, with a leaning to vestments, whereas Brand thinks that heaven and earth were created by the County Council, under the supervision of the Fabian Society."
"I should have thought that it would have been a most suitable match," said Philip. "They would be able to bring each other such fresh ideas."