"Well," said Jane, "if it wasn't that it was Hambleby."
At that Brodrick frowned so formidably that Jane could have cried out, "For goodness' sake go and marry her and leave off venting your bad temper upon me."
"It had to be something," said she. "Why shouldn't it be Hambleby? By the way, George Tanqueray was perfectly right. I was in love with him. I mean, of course, with Hambleby."
"You seem," said Brodrick, "to be in love with him still, as far as I can make out."
"That's why," said Jane, "I can't help feeling that there's something wrong with him. George says you never really know the people you're in love with."
There was a gleam of interest now in Brodrick's face. He was evidently, Jane thought, applying Tanqueray's aphorism to Gertrude.
"It doesn't make any difference," he said.
"I should have thought," said she, "it would have made some."
"It doesn't. If anything, you know them rather better."
"Oh," said she, "it makes that difference, does it?"