to enter it, I'm told.

VERNON [laughs]. It would have been a "nice point," as they say in
legal circles. If people had liked her, they'd have tried to forget
that her cousins had ever been scullery-maids. If not, they'd have
taken good care that nobody did.

Bennet enters. He brings some cut flowers, with the "placing" of
which he occupies himself.

BENNET. I did not know your lordship had returned.

VERNON. Found a telegram waiting for me in the village. What's
become of that niece of yours, Bennet--your sister Rose's daughter,
who was here for a short time and ran away again? Ever hear anything
about her?

BENNET [very quietly he turns, lets his eyes for a moment meet
Fanny's. Then answers as he crosses to the windows]. The last I
heard about her was that she was married.

VERNON. Satisfactorily?

BENNET. Looking at it from her point of view--most satisfactorily.

VERNON [laughs]. But looking at it from his--more doubtful?

BENNET. She was not without her attractions. Her chief faults, I am
inclined to think, were those arising from want of discipline in
youth. I have hopes that it is not even yet too late to root out