“Balmoral, Rosebery Gardens, Gladstone Road.”
“It sounds quite aristocratic,” he said, suavely. “Their Liberalism is evidently a family tradition.”
He fastened the envelope, and, blotting it, rose from the desk.
“I consider it my duty to be as cordial as possible to your future relations, Winnie, and I have a natural curiosity to make their acquaintance. I have asked Mrs. Railing to bring her daughter to tea, and I shall ask your uncle to meet them.”
“Oh, father, you don’t know what they’re like!”
“My dear, I don’t expect to find them highly educated. I take it they are rough diamonds with hearts of gold. I’m prepared to like Mrs. Railing.”
“Papa, don’t ask any one else—she drinks.”
“Well, well, we all have our little failings in this world,” returned the Canon, blandly.
He had gone too far. Winnie gave him a long, keen look, and the old note of defiance came back to her face.
“I hope you don’t think I can ever break my engagement with Bertram. Nothing on earth shall induce me to do that. I’ve given him my solemn promise and I’d sooner die than break it.”