By "she" Mrs. Grant understood her to refer to Lady Brent, whom she seldom referred to in any other way. "I’m very glad to have you," she said. "I hope nothing is wrong. Have you seen Harry?" "I’ll tell you when we get into the carriage." When they were settled and driving away, she said: "Have I seen Harry? I think you’ll be surprised when I tell you how and where I’ve seen him. I’ve never had such a shock in my life. I don’t know what to do about it. I had to come straight down to see her. She must deal with it. I can’t; it’s beyond me. I only hope it won’t be beyond her. I must tell you all from the beginning." She entered into a long explanation of how she had written to Harry at Wilbraham’s flat where he was staying. He had come to see her, and had been kind but had seemed annoyed with her for coming up to London when he had not expected it. He had told her that he was very much engaged, and could not see much of her before he went abroad. He had not vouchsafed any account of how he was engaged, but had come to see her once again, in the morning, but had refused to stay to lunch or to make any engagement for the evening. She spoke with some resentment, and not as she had ever spoken about Harry before. It was as if she felt more annoyed at being neglected than sorry at not having him with her. Mrs. Grant sat silent, and she entered on another long explanation about the Bastians, and her early friendship with Bastian’s wife. Then Mrs. Grant began to be extremely interested. "What possessed me to find out all about them just at this time, and go to see the girl, I can’t think," she said. "I think it was Providence leading me. I’d forgotten all about Mrs. Clark, the woman they lodge with, being Mrs. Ivimey’s sister, and fortunately—or unfortunately—she didn’t open the door to me. The maid said she was in, but had a young gentleman with her. She looked rather knowing as she said it, and I thought it would be amusing to see what the young gentleman was like. You can imagine what I felt when she showed me into the room and I found Harry there." She looked as if she expected an exclamation of surprise at this climax; but Mrs. Grant had already been prepared for it by her rigmarole. "That explains a great deal," she said. "I suppose they had met here." "Yes, two years ago, when Harry was a boy—hardly more than a child. Could you believe it of him, and keeping it secret all that time, and ever since?" "What happened?" asked Mrs. Grant, adjusting her thoughts to many things. "They were sitting side by side on the sofa. I never had such a shock in my life. I could only stand there and stare. She jumped up, of course. I hadn’t given my name, and she didn’t even know who I was. Harry looked very black, and stood up too. It was as if a sword was piercing my heart to see my son look at me like that."