"Mrs. Verulam," he began—"Mrs. Verulam, I must—forgive me."
"For what?" she sweetly queried.
"I must, indeed—I must speak. Are you—can you be aware of what society will inevitably say if you permit a—a man—of Mr. Bush's—er—appearance, or, indeed, any man to open your eyes? Society will not permit these—these unwarrantable—forgive me—unwarrantable liberties. The line will be drawn—it will, indeed. Let me implore you to realise this before it is too late—let me implore you, if I have any influence!"
He quite broke down, and trod on a valuable verbena.
"Society calls crimes virtuous, and virtues criminal," said Mrs. Verulam.
"Oh, pardon me—pardon me!" he babbled.
"Yes, it does. True virtue is simple, frank, unashamed."
"Ah, ah! unashamed in the—the very shocking way of Eve before her very desirable—if I may say so—fall," cried Mr. Rodney.
"Mr. Bush stands to me for virtue," added Mrs. Verulam irrepressibly.