“But nothing lasts for ever. The whole world is in a state of flux.”
“Really, Mr. Braybrooke! I am quite sure I am not in a state of flux!” said Miss Cronin with unusual dignity. “We American women, you must understand, have our principles and know how to preserve them.”
“On my honour, I only meant that life inevitably brings with it changes. I am sure you will bear me out in that.”
“I don’t know about bearing you out,” said Miss Cronin, looking rather helplessly at Francis Braybrooke’s fairly tall and well-nourished figure. “But why should Beryl want to change? She is very happy as she is.”
“I know—I know. But surely such a lovely girl is certain to marry some day. And can we wish it otherwise? Some day a man will come who knows how to appreciate her as she deserves, who understands her nature, who is ready to devote his life to fulfilling her deepest needs.”
Miss Cronin suddenly looked intelligent and at the same time like a dragon. Never before had Braybrooke seen such an expression upon her face, such a stiffening of dignity to her ample figure. She sat straight up, looked him full in the face, and observed:
“I understand your meaning, Mr. Braybrooke. You wish to marry Beryl. Well, you must forgive me for saying that I think you are much too old for her.”
Braybrooke had not blushed for probably at least forty years, but he blushed scarlet now, and seized his beard with a hand that looked thoroughly unstrung.
“My dear Miss Cronin!” he said, in a voice which was almost hoarse with protest. “You absolutely misunderstood me. It is much too la—I mean that I have no intention whatever of changing my condition. No, no! Let us talk of something else. So you are reading ‘Le Disciple’” (he picked it up). “A very striking book! I always think it one of Bourget’s very best.”
He poured forth an energetic cataract of words in praise of Miss Cronin’s favourite author, and presently got away without any further quite definite misunderstanding. But when he was out in the corridor on his way to the lift he indulged himself in a very unwonted expression of acrimonious condemnation.