"Well--of course it was just what one expected."

"She takes it so badly, you mean?"

"All the heavy batteries were brought up: my father, Givre,
Monsieur de Chantelle, the throne and the altar. Even my
poor mother was dragged out of oblivion and armed with
imaginary protests."

Anna sighed out her sympathy. "Well--you were prepared for
all that?"

"I thought I was, till I began to hear her say it. Then it
sounded so incredibly silly that I told her so."

"Oh, Owen--Owen!"

"Yes: I know. I was a fool; but I couldn't help it."

"And you've mortally offended her, I suppose? That's exactly
what I wanted to prevent." She laid a hand on his shoulder.
"You tiresome boy, not to wait and let me speak for you!"

He moved slightly away, so that her hand slipped from its
place. "You don't understand," he said, frowning.

"I don't see how I can, till you explain. If you thought
the time had come to tell your grandmother, why not have
asked me to do it? I had my reasons for waiting; but if
you'd told me to speak I should have done so, naturally."