“Why, I thought that was her whole education.” Edna ignored this interruption. “It’s all very well for the women of noble families to act the snob,” pursued she. “Lots of them do, and no one criticises. But Margot ought to have had sense enough to realize that she, a mere American, couldn’t afford to do it. I warned her that her cue was sweetness and an air of equality. I told her that her title in itself would keep people at their proper distance. But she lost her head.” “Then the thing for her to do is to behave herself.” “It’s too late, I’m afraid. The tide has turned against her. All the women--especially the titled English women of good family--were against her--hated her--were ready to stab her in the back. And her haughtiness and condescension gave them the chance.” “Well, what do you propose? To give him more money?” Edna showed none of her familiar scorn of sordid things. She reflected, said uncertainly: “I wonder would that do any good?” “To win anyone give them what they most want,” said I. “What do your friends over here want above everything and anything?” “Perhaps you are right,” confessed she. Consider, gentle reader, what this confession involved, how it exposed the rotten insincerity of all her and her fine friends’ pretenses. “Yes, I guess you’re right, Godfrey.” She pressed her hands to her temples. “It simply _must_ be straightened out. I am quite distracted. I can’t afford to lose sleep and to be harrowed up. Those things mean ruin to a woman’s looks. And what _would_ I do if she were flung back on my hands in this disgraceful fashion!” “You want me to go to London?” “Godfrey, you _must_ go. You must see her, and him, too.” “I was thinking it would be enough to see him. But perhaps you’re right.” “She is clean mad,” cried Edna, with sudden fury against her daughter. “She doesn’t appreciate the peril of her position. One minute she’s all for groveling. The next she talks like an idiot about her rank and power. Oh, she is a fool--a _fool_! I always knew she was--though I wouldn’t admit it to myself. You never will know what a time I’ve had training her to hide it enough to make a pleasing appearance. She is a brainless fool.” “A fool, but not brainless,” said I. “Her education made her a fool and paralyzed her brain. You see, she didn’t have the advantages you had in your early training. In your early days you had the chance to learn something--the useful things that have saved you from the consequences of such folly as you’ve taught her.” “What nonsense!” cried Edna in disgust. “But we mustn’t quarrel. I’m agitated enough already. You will go to London?” “Yes,” said I, after reflecting. “I’ll go.” “When?” “To-morrow.” “And I’ll go with you.” “No,” said I firmly. “Either I manage this affair alone or I have nothing to do with it.” “But, Godfrey, there are so many things about these people that you don’t understand. And you----”