Mr. Pett moaned sympathetically.
"And now the papers have found out that I am his aunt, and I suppose they will print my photograph whenever they publish an article about him."
She ceased and sat rigid with just wrath. Mr. Pett, who always felt his responsibilities as chorus keenly during these wifely monologues, surmised that a remark from him was indicated.
"It's tough," he said.
Mrs. Pett turned on him like a wounded tigress.
"What is the use of saying that? It's no use saying anything."
"No, no," said Mr. Pett, prudently refraining from pointing out that she had already said a good deal.
"You must do something."
Ann entered the conversation for the first time. She was not very fond of her aunt, and liked her least when she was bullying Mr. Pett. There was something in Mrs. Pett's character with which the imperiousness which lay beneath Ann's cheerful attitude towards the world was ever at war.
"What can uncle Peter possibly do?" she inquired.