“Mr. Shelmerdine,” said the Queen of Tragedy, “I must ask you for an explana-tion.”
Braided Morning Coat, notwithstanding that it was feeling completely undone, unbuttoned itself nervously.
“The Mater’s a bit mixed, ma’am, and that’s the truth. I am not engaged to Lady Adela.”
“Perhaps, Phil-ipp, not officially.”
“No, Mater, and not unofficially, and—” Herculean effort by the Green Chartreuse—“I don’t mind sayin’, I’ve no intention—”
“Phil-ipp!”
“Lady Shelmerdine,” said the Queen of Tragedy, “the situation is not altogether clear to my mind. Either your son is engaged to marry Lady Adela Rocklaw, or he is not.”
“He is morally engaged to her.”
“I am sorry I am unable to appreciate the distinction. Do I understand that your son is engaged to Lady Adela?”
“No, ma’am, I’m not,” said the Braided Morning Coat with honorable boldness.