"Well--" It was as if he took his question back, conceding its enormity. He leaned forward now in his balancing, and lowered his voice to the extreme of confidence. "Have you any idea how far she's gone?" (It was as near as he could get to it.) "She's gone as far as Paris," said Ranny, with a grin. "Is that far enough for you?" Mr. Randall leaned back as with relief, and stopped balancing. "It might be worse," he said, "far worse." "How d'you mean--worse? Seems to me about as bad as it can be." "It's unfortunate--but not so serious as if--" He paused profoundly. He was visibly considering it from some private and personal point of view. "She might have stayed in London. She might have carried on at your own door or here in Wandsworth." His nephew, Randall, was now regarding him with an attention the nature of which he entirely misconceived. It gave him courage to speak out--his whole mind and no mincing matters. "If I were you, Randall, the first thing I should do is to get rid of that young woman--that Dymond girl--" He put up his hand to ward off the imminent explosion. "Yes, yes, I know _all_ you've got to say, my boy, but it won't do. She's a young girl--" "She's as good as they make them," said Ranny, glaring at him, "as good as my mother there." "Yes, yes, yes. I know all about it. But you mustn't have her there." "Have her where?" "Where I know she's been--where your mother says she's been--in your house. Now, don't turn on your mother; she hasn't said a word against her. I'm not saying a word. But you mustn't--have--her--about, Randall. You mustn't have her about. There'd be talk and all, before you know where you are. It isn't right and it isn't proper." "No, Ranny, it isn't proper," said his mother; and his aunt said, No, it wasn't, too. Ranny laughed unpleasantly. "You think it's as improper as the other thing, do you?" He addressed his uncle. "What other thing?" said Mr. Randall. It had made him wince even while he pretended not to see it. It had brought him so near. "What my wife's done." "Well, Randall, since you ask me, to all appearances--appearances, mind you--it is." "Appearances?" "Well, you must save appearances, and you must save 'em while you can." "How am I to save them, I should like to know?" "By actin' at once. By stoppin' it all before it gets about. You can't have your wife over there in Paris carryin' on. You must just start--soon as you can--to-morrow--and bring her back." "Not much!" "It's what you got to do, Randall. She's been unfortunate, I know; but she's young, and you don't know how she may have been led on. 'S likely's not you haven't looked after her enough. You don't know but what you may have been responsible. You got to take her back." "What should I take her back for?" said Ranny, with false suavity. "To save scandal. To save trouble and misery and disgrace all round. You got to think of your family." "What do you mean by my family? Me and my children?"