with a questioning eye in the awesome brew which he had prepared for the thrips.
“One thing is very satisfactory,” said Lady Caroline. “I mean that Maud seems entirely to have got over that ridiculous infatuation of hers for that man she met in Wales last summer. She could not be so cheerful if she were still brooding on that. I hope you will admit now, John, that I was right in keeping her practically a prisoner here and never allowing her a chance of meeting the man again either by accident or design. They say absence makes the heart grow fonder. Stuff! A girl of Maud’s age falls in and out of love half a dozen times a year. I feel sure she has almost forgotten the man by now.”
“Eh?” said Lord Marshmoreton. His mind had been far away dealing with green flies.
“I was speaking about that man Maud met when she was staying with Brenda in Wales.”
“Oh, yes!”
“Oh, yes!” echoed Lady Caroline, annoyed. “Is that the only comment you can find to make? Your only daughter becomes infatuated with a perfect stranger, a man we have never seen, of whom we know nothing, not even his name—nothing except that he is an American and hasn’t a penny—Maud admitted that. And all you say is, ‘Oh, yes!’ ”
“But it’s all over now, isn’t it? I understood the dashed affair was all over.”
“We hope so. But I should feel far safer if Maud were engaged to Reggie. I do think you might take the trouble to speak to Maud.”
“Speak to her? I do speak to her.” Lord Marshmoreton’s brain moved slowly when he was preoccupied with his roses. “We're on excellent terms.”
