"Looking back a dozen years, I can think of several young women whom Godfrey would have done well to consider——"
"I can certainly think of one, mother," he said, and in the darkness there came a bitter little smile over his face.
"You mean Katty Winslow? Yes—I think you're right, my dear. When Godfrey turned from Katty to Laura, he made a terrible mistake. Katty, in the old days, had very much the same ambitions, and the same social aspirations, as himself. She was really fond of him too! She would have become—what's the odious word?—'smart.' And Godfrey would have been proud of her. By now he would have stood for Parliament, and then, in due course, would have come a baronetcy. Yes, if the gods had been kind, Godfrey Pavely would have married poor little Katty—he didn't behave over well to her, you know!"
"It seems to me that Mrs. Winslow has made quite a good thing of her life, mother."
"Do you really think that, Oliver?"
"Yes, I do. She managed very cleverly, so I'm told, to get rid of that worthless husband of hers, and now she's got that pretty little house, and that charming little garden, and as much of Godfrey as she seems to want." He spoke with a kind of hard indifference.
"Katty's not the sort of woman to be really satisfied with a pretty little house, a charming little garden, and a platonic share in another woman's husband."
"Then she'll marry again. People seem to think her very attractive."
There was a long pause.
"Mother?"