Miss Esperance was out; Mr. Wycherly, as usual, reading in his room. There Lady Alicia sought him and plunged at once into a history of the "entanglement," as she called it, concluding with these words: "I told her never to mention that young man to me again, and she never did, so of course I concluded that, like a sensible girl, she had put the whole thing out of her head: but the hussy has married him, _married_ him without ever a wedding present or a single new gown, and what can I do? A girl, too, who might have married anyone, by far the prettiest of the four, and look how well the rest have married!" "She must love him very much," Mr. Wycherly said dreamily. "Pretty Margaret, so gentle always and so quiet. What strength, what tenacity of purpose under that docile feminine exterior! Dear Lady Alicia, she is more like you than any of your other daughters." "Like _me_!" Lady Alicia almost shouted. "Do you mean to say _I_ could have run away with any bottle-nosed vintner that ever tasted port—_I_, forsooth!" "But you told me yourself that he is a gentleman, young and good-looking," Mr. Wycherly expostulated. "If I remember rightly, too, something of a scholar—and Margaret loves him. She has proved that beyond all question. God grant that he is worthy of her love. You can’t unmarry them, my dear old friend, and though you will be angry with me, I must tell you that I think it is well you can’t. You must forgive them both." "Never," said Lady Alicia with the greatest determination. "She has chosen her vintner; let her stick to him." "She will do that in any case," said Mr. Wycherly; "but she will love her mother none the less, and her mother will, presently, love her all the more." "She will do nothing of the kind," Lady Alicia said with considerable asperity. "You don’t seem to realise what a disgraceful thing your nephew has done in abducting my daughter in this fashion." "I thought you said she went to him," Mr. Wycherly suggested apologetically. For answer Lady Alicia rose in her wrath and strode out of the room. Mr. Wycherly hastened after her across the little landing and down the curly staircase, but he was not in time to open the front door for her, and she banged it in his face. Mr. Wycherly opened it, and stood on the threshold just in time to hear the little gate at the bottom of the garden give an angry click as it fell behind Lady Alicia’s retreating form. He did not attempt to follow her, but stood where he was, wrapped in a reverie so absorbing that he started violently as the green gate slammed again and Lady Alicia bustled up the path holding out her hand, and saying: "After all, it’s not your fault, I don’t know why I should scold you; the only redeeming feature in the whole horrible affair is that he’s your nephew and therefore cannot be an utter scoundrel, but you must confess it is very hard for me."