“... the sort of man who....”

“What is her name?”

“Bennett.”

“Bennett? Wilhelmina Bennett? The daughter of Mr. Rufus Bennett? The red-haired girl I met at lunch one day at your father’s house?”

“That’s it. You’re a great guesser. I think you ought to stop the thing.”

“I intend to.”

“Fine!”

“The marriage would be unsuitable in every way. Miss Bennett and my son do not vibrate on the same plane.”

“That’s right. I’ve noticed it myself.”

“Their auras are not the same colour.”