'Yes, dear. I see you are going to church.'

'Are you not coming, mamma?'

I was well wrapped up in an extremely comfortable corner. I had 'La
Duchesse Bleue' uncut in my lap, and an agreeable person to talk to.
I fear that in any case I should not been inclined to attend the
service, but there was something in my daughter's intonation that
made me distinctly hostile to the idea. I am putting things down as
they were, extenuating nothing.

'I think not, dear.'

'I've turned up two such nice seats.'

'Stay, Miss Farnham, and keep us in countenance,' said Dacres, with
his charming smile. The smile displaced a look of discreet and
amused observation. Dacres had an eye always for a situation, and
this one was even newer to him than to me.

'No, no. She must run away and not bully her mamma,' I said. 'When
she comes back we will see how much she remembers of the sermon;'
and as the flat tinkle from the companion began to show signs of
diminishing, Cecily, with one grieved glance, hastened down.

'You amazing lady!' said Dacres. 'A daughter--and such a tall
daughter! I somehow never--'

'You knew we had one?'