§ 4
The next day Mary Pembroke came to Conster, and that same evening was confronted by her family. Sir John insisted on everyone being present, except Gervase—whom he still considered a mere boy—and the daughters-in-law. Vera was glad to be left out, for she had no wish to sit in judgment on a fellow woman, in whose guilt she believed and with whose lies she sympathised, but Rose was indignant, for she detected a slight in the omission.
“Besides,” she said to her husband, “I’m the only one who considers the problem chiefly from a moral point of view—the rest think only of the family, whether it will be good or bad for their reputation if she fights the case.”
“What about me?” asked her husband, perhaps justly aggrieved—“surely you can trust me not to forget the moral side of things.”
“Well, I hope so I’m sure. But you must speak out and not be afraid of your father.”
“I’m not afraid of him.”
“Indeed you are—you never can stand up to him. It’s he who manages this parish, not you.”
“How can you say that?”
“What else can I say when you still let him read the lessons after he created such a scandal by saying ‘damn’ when the pages stuck together.”
“Nobody heard him.”