"Well, I admit that I was beginning to say that I thought these two venerable ladies, meeting as ghosts—not spectres you know, in which case each would frighten t'other and both would run away—would probably be as superior to painful memories on this side as the emancipated butterfly is to its forgotten wiggles as a chrysalis. But it has dawned upon me that Perfect Beings won't wash, and that the Blessed have drawbacks, and that their Choir would pall. I am inclined to back out, and decide that the two of them would have been more miserable if the discovery had come upon them post mortem than they will be now—in a little time at least. At first of course it must be maddening to think of the twenty odd years they have been cheated out of. Really the Divine Disposer of Events might have had a little consideration for the Dramatis Personæ." He jumped to another topic. "You know your mamma paid our papa a visit last—last Thursday, wasn't it?—yes, Thursday!"
"Oh yes—I heard all about it. She had a short chat with him, and he gave her a very good cup of tea. He told her about some very old acquaintances whom she hadn't heard of for years who live in Tavistock Square."
"Was that all?"
"No. The lady very-old acquaintance had been a Miss Tyrawley, and had married her riding-master."
"Was that all?"
"No. She called you and 'Re 'the son and daughter.' Then she talked of our 'engagement as your father persists in calling it.' My blood boiled for quite five minutes."
"All that sounds—very usual! Was there nothing else? That was very little for such a long visit."
"How long was the visit?"
"Much too long for what you've told me. Think of something else!"
Now Gwen had been keeping something back. Under pressure she let it out. "Well—mamma thought fit to say that your father entirely shared her views! Was that true?"