“Why, how should I know, Cousin Sophia?” My wife was genuinely puzzled by the question, and so was I. “Exactly!” And Miss Sophia's voice was acid. “How should you know? I imagine it is a point upon which Lady Agatha Pelham, under the circumstances, has not been very communicative.” “But, Cousin Sophia----” I began. She interrupted me. “Cousin Henry,” she said, “do you mean to say that you approve of these goings-on in your house? The idea of a married woman entering into a perfectly open flirtation with a man, as this Lady Agatha Pelham has done! Not that I blame Hiram Bainbridge; for men are susceptible when skillfully practised upon--especially with arts which I have never stooped to employ. It is shameless, Cousin Henry, shameless! If Cousin Marian's mother were alive, she would at least see that the children were sent back to America before they become contaminated by this atmosphere. Cousin Henry, to think that you have been so corrupted by European ways already that you acquiesce in this anomalous relationship!” “I should hardly call it that, Cousin Sophia,” I ventured, “and for the life of me I cannot see anything wrong.” It took me a little while to catch Miss Sophia's point of view. I am bound to say that she presented it rather convincingly. If Sir Arthur had been alive, she said, she would have seen nothing wrong in Lady Agatha forming any ties she might choose in the spirit world. Or if Sir Arthur had been in the spirit world and Lady Agatha in the earth life, she would have exonerated Lady Agatha from any indelicacy in forming a close friendship with Uncle Bainbridge. But since both Sir Arthur and Lady Agatha were in the spirit life, Lady Agatha's place was with Sir Arthur. “Aristocrat or not,” she said, “she is indelicate, she is unladylike, she is coarse, or she would not carry on in this fashion with a man to whom she is not married.” “I will not have dear Lady Agatha insulted!” said my wife, white with anger, rising from the chair in which she had been sitting. “It is I who have been insulted, by being asked to a house where such a brazen and indecent affair is accepted as a matter of course,” said Cousin Sophia. I hastily interposed. I saw that my wife was about to cast prudence to the winds and tell Miss Sophia that if she felt that way about it she might as well leave. Miss Sophia is very well-to-do herself, and my wife is her only near relation. I did not fear that the rupture would be permanent; for I had known Marian and Cousin Sophia to go quite this far many times before, and, indeed, in an hour they had both apparently got over their temper.