"If you had a garden-play, how delightfully this temple would serve for a central point in your stage," said Allan, admiringly. "People have asked me to lend them the gardens for a play--'Twelfth Night,' or 'Much Ado about Nothing;' but I have always said no. I should hate to see a crowd in this dear old garden." "Yet there are people who would think such a place as this created on purpose for garden-parties, and who would desire nothing better than a crowd of smart people." Mrs. Wornock shuddered at the mention of smart people. "A party of that kind would be misery for me," she said. "And now tell me about yourself, and your relations. Mrs. Mornington told me that your father and mother are both living, and that you inherited Beechhurst from your uncle. I remember seeing Admiral Darnleigh years and years ago, when everything at Discombe and at Matcham was new to me. It must be sad for your mother to lose you from her own home." "My mother is not given to sadness," Allan answered, smiling. "She is the best and kindest of mothers, and I know she loves me as dearly as any son need desire; but she is quite resigned to my having my own home and my own interests. She would argue, perhaps, that were I to marry I must have a house of my own, and that my establishment at Beechhurst is only a little premature." "You are very much attached to your mother?" "Very much--and to my father." "Your tone as you say those words tell me that your father is the dearer of the two." "You have a quick ear for shades of meaning, Mrs. Wornock." "Pray do not think me impertinent. I am not questioning you out of idle curiosity. If we are to be friends in the future, I must know and understand something of your life and your mind. But perhaps I bore you--perhaps you think me both eccentric and impertinent."