"He's not young, Aunty."
"What has that to do with it?"
"I don't know, but I should think it might have a good deal to do with it. Don't people say that the young love the young?"
"And marry them, you mean? Really, my dear, you have such romantic notions! In that case, what's to become of the old?"
"They're supposed to have married before they became old, I should think. Now, I am only eighteen. I don't know—I'm only speculating about it, and I like Mr. Stainton very much—but when you think of a man of his age marrying——"
Again Mrs. Newberry interrupted. She had her position to maintain: her position as Preston Newberry's wife.
"Muriel," she said, "I can guess what is in your mind, but I cannot guess how it got there. You shock me."
"But, Aunty——"
"That is enough. There are some things that a young girl should not discuss."
Muriel put her hands to her burning cheeks.