"Don't waste your forbiddings," she said, "I'm not banns, and I won't be treated as such. Besides, even banns are never forbidden in these days."
"Yes, they are," I said. "A bann was forbidden last week. A father of eighty years, infuriated by the imminent desertion of a daughter of fifty-five, got up in church at the third time of asking and said, 'I object. Who's going to look after me?' The clergyman nearly swooned."
"And the unfortunate objecter was carefully removed by his friends. I don't see that that's much of a help to you."
"Anyhow," I said, "I won't have it."
"It's too late to talk like that. In half-an-hour I start for Sandy Bay to stay with Violet. My luggage is already at the station."
"Yes," I said, "and you leave me here alone to look after everything."
"Well, what of that?" she said. "Don't you often leave me alone here to look after everything?"
"Ah, but that's different. When I go away rien n'est changé; il n'y a qu'un Anglais de moins."
"My own Parisian one!" she murmured.
"The mistress-mind remains and things go on being controlled. Lord love you, my absence makes no difference."