When he had departed for the office, Mrs. Casson, a dainty, very youthful appearing woman of fifty-five, and long since robbed of any illusions concerning certain impossible phases of her husband’s character spoke up:
“Sometimes, Maisie, I suspect John Casson is in his second childhood.”
“You’re wrong, Auntie. In some respects he hasn’t emerged from his first childhood. For instance, Uncle John is nurturing the belief that Dan isn’t aware of his operations.”
“You think Dan knows?”
“I’m sure of it.”
“Has he told you so?”
“No.”
“He ought to be told.”
“I shall tell him—this very morning. Uncle John, wrapped in his supreme sense of self-sufficiency, appears to have forgotten that in an unlimited partnership each partner is irrevocably bound by the actions of the other.”
“I wonder at Dan’s patience with him.”