"Eh? Well——" he considered; "they weren't exactly what you would have expected from a fellow who's knocked about as Foster has. Sort of romantic, you know."
As she made no reply, he continued: "I expect he had to let them out to some one, and perhaps Maud—what do you think? Do you see Maud playing the pious and charitable?—but I daresay she will, you know. Woa there! I have it, I knew there was something," his tone quickened, "he called her, that's to say he didn't call her, but of course he meant her, he said he hoped his wife would be an 'Angel in the House,' or something of that kind. He said a lot more, but I can't remember it."
"You are remembering very well. Go on."
"So then I thought of you."
"Of me? Oh, no."
"But I did, Leo. I can't help it. Anyhow I did." After a minute he continued briskly. "Whatever made him think of Maud? She must have been jolly different to him from what she is to us. You know what I mean, Leo. If he thinks he is going to marry a saint——"
"Oh, Val, don't. You mustn't. You haven't said anything about this to other people?" said Leo, in great agitation, "you haven't, have you?"
"Rather not. Give you my word. I have been bursting with it ever since—and if my gran had known she'd have got it out of me sure as fate—but she doesn't care twopence about Foster, and is only glad it isn't you."
"Do leave me out of the question. I—I—why should you think of me at all?"
"Gran keeps me up to it. She goes on praising you. You see I never told her about that, Leo, and she still thinks—you know what," and he nodded significantly. "This marriage has set her going again."