He came back for her in less than the half-hour. She had her car waiting, and directly they had settled themselves in it he said: "Now look here, Mary, I'm glad you've come, after all. I'll tell you exactly what has happened and you can tell other people. There's no mystery and there's nothing to hide. Lassigny asked B to marry him in the way you've heard of. When he came here to talk it over with me I put one or two questions to him which offended him, and he withdrew. That's all there is to it." "I don't think it's quite enough, George," she replied at once. "People are talking. I've had one or two letters already. It's hard on poor little B too. She doesn't understand it, and it's making her very miserable." "Has she written to you about it?" "Of course she has. You sent her to me while you were getting rid of her lover for her, and she had to write and tell me what had happened. It isn't like you to play the tyrant to your children, George; but really you do seem to have done it here. She won't forgive you, you know." That was Lady Grafton's attitude at the beginning of the hour or so they spent together, and it was her attitude at the end of it. He had gone further in self-defence than he had had any intention of going, but all she had said was: "Well, I know you think you're right, but honestly I don't, George. Constance Ardrishaig wrote to me about it and said that they were perfectly delightful together. He thought the world of her, and everybody knows that when a man does fall in love with a thoroughly nice girl it alters him--if he's been what he ought to have been." Travelling down in the train Grafton found himself embarked upon that disturbing exercise of going over a discussion again and mending one's own side of it. Mary ought to have been able to see it. She had used some absurd arguments; if he had answered her in this way or that, she would have been silenced. Or better still, if he had refused to discuss the matter at all, and rested himself upon the final fact that it was Lassigny who had withdrawn; and there was an end of it. She had, actually, seemed to realise that there was an end of it. She didn't suggest that anything should be done. He rather gathered that Lady Ardrishaig had some intention of writing to Lassigny and trying to 'bring it on again.' Mary had seemed to hint at that, but had denied any such idea when he had asked her if it was so. She had been cleverer at holding him aloof than he had been in holding her. If there was anything that could be done by these kind ladies who knew so much better what was for his daughter's welfare than he did, it would be done behind his back. Beatrix met him at the station. When they were in the car together she snuggled up to him and said: "Did you see Aunt Mary, darling?"