"As it happened, yes. But they were only children. Jane is older now, but not old enough, fortunately, to have the danger of complications. Apart altogether from the question of a love affair with Lady Sidney, I believe it’s the best thing that could happen for him to have those two with him while he’s here. It’s an awful welter of blood and horror out there, you know, Wilbraham. None of the young fellows who come home talk much about it, but it doesn’t need much imagination to see what a healing process it is for anybody like Harry to spend a few weeks with people like those two girls as his chief companions, in a quiet lovely place like this." "Now you’re talking sense yourself for a change. Here’s Mrs. Brent coming. Don’t leave me alone with her. It’s an awful welter of red tape and incompetence where I’ve just come from, but I don’t want her as a healing process till I feel a little stronger." But the Grants had to be going very shortly, and Mrs. Brent was not to be denied. Her first address to Wilbraham, however, was not on the subject of her grievances. "Oh, I forgot to tell you when I wrote," she said. "You know that artist—Bastian—who came down here two summers ago?" "Yes," said Wilbraham, with his heart in his mouth. "Well, I’ve found out that he married a great friend of mine—oh, years ago, but I hadn’t forgotten her. She died, poor girl, but of course the daughter who was with Mr. Bastian here was hers. I wish I’d known. I’d have gone to see them." "You wouldn’t have wanted to bring that time up, would you?" said Wilbraham, scarcely knowing what to say. She was all bristles at once. "I think I was very badly treated about all that," she said. "I’d nothing whatever to be ashamed of in what I came from, and all the time it was made to look as if I had. I half believed it myself, but now I know better. Every one of my family is doing well. They’re not in the position I’m in, of course, but there’s no need to be ashamed of any of them. In fact, I’ve made up my mind to introduce Harry to his relations on my side of the family. I’m going to ask him to take me up to London before he goes back. Then he’ll see for himself." "Do you think you’re wise?" said Wilbraham, relieved at having got away from the subject of the Bastians. "What do you mean?" she asked. "What’s the objection?" "Well, you say they’re not equal to you. They may be very good sort of people; I dare say they are; but what’s the sense of dragging them in at this time of the day—after twenty years—to mark the difference?" "What difference?" "Well, the difference between them and Lady Brent." "Lady Brent! How can you talk like that? It’s just that I’m so mad with Lady Brent that I——"