But neither of the gentlemen paid the slightest attention to Mrs. Clive.
"It is not a question of our mothers only, it is a question of our fathers, too!"
"That is so. There can be no doubt that the maternal and paternal questions are closely intertwined."
"I never thought"--Mrs. Clive produced her handkerchief--"I never thought that I should have lived to see this day!"
Mrs. Clive began to cry; but neither of the gentlemen seemed at all abashed. They had a duty to perform, and evidently meant to carry it through.
"'Our acts our judges are, for good or ill.
Fatal shadows--which march by us still!'"
It was such an unusual thing for Mr. Ely to essay quotation that it was not surprising if the poet's words got slightly mangled in production. "The thing you do is like the seed you sow, it grows and grows until it assumes gigantic proportions, and blights your life and the lives of all whose paths you cross. You cannot get away from that!"
"You certainly cannot get away from that! That is well put--very well put, indeed!"
But Mrs. Clive was not to be trampled upon in silence. She turned on Mr. Ely with undaunted mien.
"May I ask, Mr. Ely, for an explanation of the language which you use?"