get you to the taxi and take you to the hotel. . . . What do you want
to know about Jill?"

"Everything. Where does she come from? Who are her people? I don't
know any Mariners."

"I haven't cross-examined her," said Derek stiffly. "But I do know
that her parents are dead. Her father was an American."

"American!"

"Americans frequently have daughters, I believe."

"There is nothing to be gained by losing your temper," said Lady
Underhill with steely calm.

"There is nothing to be gained, as far as I can see, by all this
talk," retorted Derek. He wondered vexedly why his mother always had
this power of making him lose control of himself. He hated to lose
control of himself. It upset him, and blurred that vision which he
liked to have of himself as a calm, important man superior to
ordinary weaknesses. "Jill and I are engaged, and there is an end of
it."

"Don't be a fool," said Lady Underhill, and was driven away by
another baggage-truck. "You know perfectly well," she resumed,
returning to the attack, "that your marriage is a matter of the
greatest concern to me and to the whole of the family."

"Listen, mother!" Derek's long wait on the draughty platform had