"Well?"

"_She did._ And he's married her niece."

"What! Without your consent! I'm shocked that Mrs. Newbolt permitted--"

"Probably her permission wasn't asked, any more than mine."

"You mean an elopement? How outrageous in Maurice!" Mrs. Houghton said.

Her husband agreed. "Abominable! Mary, do you mind if I smoke?"

"Very much; but you'll do it all the same. I suppose the girl's a mere
child?" Then she quailed. "Henry!--she's respectable, isn't she? I
couldn't bear it, if--if she was some--dreadful person."

He sheltered a sputtering match in his curving hand and lighted a cigar;
then he said, "Oh, I suppose she's respectable enough; but she's
certainly 'dreadful.' He says she's a music teacher. Probably caught him
that way. Music would lead Maurice by the nose. Confound that boy! And
his father trusted me." His face twitched with distress. "As for being a
'mere child,'--there; read his letter."

She took it, fumbling about for her spectacles; halfway through, she
gave an exclamation of dismay. "'A few years older'?--she must be
_twenty_ years older!"

"Good heavens, Mary!"