Then you said nothing about——
Mrs. O’Farrel.
Not a word. And we both went to bed. He came down to breakfast in a shocking temper. I cheerfully exhausted two tedious subjects: the House of Lords and domestic servants. Suddenly he lost his manners—cut me short—and plunged into the sad story of Patricia and himself.... Now, I’d had time to think the matter over! I treated the whole thing as a youthful peccadillo and mildly suggested he had better put an end to it. The poor dear boy was completely floored. I’m sure he’d prepared himself against a regular tornado. He simply sat there and stared at me.... Then abruptly I turned the conversation on to your daughter.
Dean.
Eh?
Mrs. O’Farrel.
I described her conduct as scandalous, herself as a hussy, and wound up with a burst of gratitude that he’d been Patricia’s victim instead of hers.
Dean.
Most remarkable! And what did the young man say?
Mrs. O’Farrel.