After all, he was the only son; the old man could not afford to be implacable. Socially, her daughter was more than his equal. Her superficial mind glossed over such ugly facts as divorce. Everybody did such things nowadays, and everybody could be told the true story of this particular case. Gerald and Virginia were blameless; the mistake had been in the hasty, ill-considered marriage; Gaunt would have to own himself beaten. She sometimes pictured an interview between herself and Gaunt, wherein she would nobly repudiate his gross insinuations, and speak beautifully of her daughter's angelic innocence. Seldom had she been more gratified by anything than by the task which fell to her of writing to "dear Osbert" to explain that Virginia had caught a chill, and would not be able to travel for some days. She used the term "days," much as she longed to write "weeks"; for there was one possibility which she kept ever before her eyes, and that was the fear lest Gaunt should lose patience, and come to Worthing himself. Virgie's feverish attack suited her plan so well that she could not blame Gerald for his carelessness, though she privately thought he had badly mismanaged things. Virgie indeed was feeling downright ill, and had such a splitting headache that, upon hearing that Gaunt was duly informed of her illness, she abandoned the effort of writing to him herself, and merely lay still, feeling in every aching bone the relief of a few days' respite before taking the final step. Grover received her in a state of queer agitation, and was half inclined to pet and pity, half to blame. The good woman had been very uncertain in her moods ever since they came to Worthing. Her heart was jealous for the lonely man in Derbyshire. She saw well enough what were Mr. Rosenberg's feelings, and she felt convinced that Mrs. Mynors was also well aware of them. She was indignant that the pretty woman, whom she cordially hated, should allow such freedom of intercourse. When the couple failed to return, or even to telegraph, the previous night, Grover had gone through some awful moments. The thought "They're off!" flashed through her mind, in spite of her real attachment to her young mistress. She was so relieved when they returned that, like many people in like case, she felt she must scold a little. "Don't tell me! England's a place where there's railway stations and where there's telegraph offices," said she severely. "If the last train had gone before you got to the station, I suppose there was a village near, and where there's a village, there's a telegraph. The young man could have knocked up the postmaster, couldn't he?" "I dare say; I never thought of that. I was so sure we should find the motor when we got back to the inn. Oh, it was such a horrid place, Grover, and so uncomfortable. The woman was so disagreeable, and seemed never to have heard of anybody wanting hot water to wash with!"