"I told her that I was at her service, of course; and I haven't heard
again. Sensible girl?"
"Very sensible, I should say."
"Sort of girl that wouldn't scream or faint in a crisis?"
"Exactly the opposite, I should say. But I've hardly seen her, you
know."
"Well, well.... And the mother?"
"No good at all," said Mr. Morton.
"Then the girl's the sheet anchor.... In love with him, do you know?"
"Lord! How d'you expect me to know that?"
The old man pondered in silence, seeming to assimilate the situation.
"He's in a devil of a mess," he said, with abrupt cheerfulness. "That
man Vincent--"
"Well?"
"He's the most dangerous of the lot. Just because he's honest."
"Good God!" broke in the other again suddenly. "Do all Catholics
believe this rubbish?"
"My dear friend, of course they don't. Not one in a thousand. I wish
they did. That's what's the matter. But they laugh at it--laugh at
it!"... His voice cracked into shrill falsetto.... "Laugh at
hell-fire.... Is Sunday the day, did you say?"
"He told me the twenty-fifth."
"And at that woman's in Queen's Gate, I suppose?"
"Expect so. He didn't say. Or I forget."
"I heard they were at their games there again," said Mr.
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