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 to look at, and charming to talk to, though her historical knowledge is not altogether profound. Another cup of tea?”

Mrs. Milvain had given her cup a little push, which seemed to indicate some momentary displeasure. But she did not want any more tea.

“It is Cassandra that I have come about,” she began. “T am very sorry to say that Cassandra is not at all what you think her, Trevor. She has imposed upon your and Maggie’s goodness. She has behaved in a way that would have seemed incredible—in this house of all houses—were it not for other circumstances that are still more incredible.”

Mr. Hilbery looked taken aback, and was silent for a second.

“It all sounds very black,” he remarked urbanely, continuing his examination of his finger-nails. “But I own I am completely in the dark.”

Mrs. Milvain became rigid, and emitted her message in little short sentences of extreme intensity.

“Who has Cassandra gone out with? William Rodney. Who has Katharine gone out with? Ralph Denham. Why are they for ever meeting each other round street comers, and going to music-halls, and taking cabs late at night? Why will Katharine not tell me the truth when I question her? I understand the reason now. Katharine has entangled herself with this unknown lawyer; she has seen fit to condone Cassandra’s conduct.”

There was another slight pause.

“Ah, well, Katharine will no doubt have some explanation to give me,” Mr. Hilbery replied imperturbably. “It’s a little too complicated for me to take in all at once, I confess—and, if you won’t think me rude, Celia, I think I'll be getting along towards Knightsbridge.”

Mrs. Milvain rose at once.

“She has condoned Cassandra’s conduct and entangled