’I had my talk with father last night.  I told him he was absurd, and I was my own master.  That you were perfectly free to give me up—­that I had begged you to consider it—­but I didn’t think you would,’ he smiled down upon her, but more gravely; ’and failing dismissal from you, we should be married as soon as it was reasonably possible.  Was that right, darling?’

She evaded the question.

‘Well—­and then?’

’Then he broke out.  Sir Henry of course was the bete noire.  You can imagine the kind of things he said, I needn’t repeat them.  He is in a mood of perfectly mad opposition to all this war legislation, and it is not the least good arguing with him.  Finally he told me that my allowance would be stopped, and Mannering would be left to Desmond, if we married.  “All right!” I said, “I daresay, if he and I survive you, Desmond will let me look round sometimes.”  Not very respectful, perhaps, but by that time I was fed up.  So then I wished him good-night, and went back to the drawing-room.  In a few minutes he sent for Miss Bremerton—­nobody knew why.  I was dog-tired, and went to bed, and didn’t I sleep!—­nine good hours.  Then this morning, just after breakfast, when I was strolling in the garden with a cigarette waiting for Pamela, who should come out but Miss Bremerton!  Have you seen her?’

‘Only in the distance.’

’Well, she’s really a very fine creature, not pretty exactly—­oh, not pretty at all—­but wonderfully well set up, with beautiful hair, and a general look of—­what shall I say?—­dignity, refinement, knowing her own mind.  You feel she would set you down in a moment if you took the smallest liberty.  I could not think what she wanted.  But she came up to me—­of course we had made acquaintance the night before—­“May I speak to you, Major Mannering?  I wish to say something private.  Shall we walk down to the kitchen garden?” So we walked down to the kitchen garden, and then she told me what had happened after dinner, when my father sent for her.  She told it very stiffly, rather curtly in fact, as though she were annoyed to have to bother about such unprofessional things, and hated to waste her time.  “But I don’t wish, I don’t intend,” she said, “to have the smallest responsibility in the matter.  So after thinking it over, I decided to inform you—­and Mr. Desmond too, if you will kindly tell him—­as to what I had done.  That is all I have to say,” with her chin very much in the air!  “I did it, of course, because I did not care to be mixed up in any private or family affairs.  That is not my business.”  I was taken aback, as you can imagine!  But, of course, I thanked her—­’

‘Why, she couldn’t have done anything else!’ said Beryl with vivacity.