"But listen...."
"I want no further discussion." Mrs. Waddington pressed the bell. "As for you," she said, turning to Molly, "do you suppose I am going to allow you to pay nocturnal visits to the apartments of libertines like George Finch?"
"He is not a libertine."
"Certainly not," said Sigsbee H. "A very fine young fellow. Comes from Idaho."
"You know perfectly well," Molly went on, "that what father has told us absolutely clears George. Why, the girl might just as well have come in and said that father had deserted her."
"Here!" said Mr. Waddington. "Hi!"
"She only wanted an excuse for getting into the house."
"It is possible," said Mrs. Waddington, "that in this particular instance George Finch is not so blameworthy as I had at first supposed. But that does not alter the fact that he is a man whom any mother with her daughter's happiness at heart must regard with the deepest suspicion. He is an artist. He has deliberately chosen to live in a quarter of New York which is notorious for its loose-thinking and Bohemian ways. And...."
The door opened.
"You rang, madam?"