Captain Bennydeck opened the door for them, secretly wishing that he could follow Mrs. Norman to the station and travel by the same train.

Mrs. Presty made no attempt to remind him that she was still in the room.  Where her family interests were concerned, the old lady was capable (on very slight encouragement) of looking a long way into the future.  She was looking into the future now.  The Captain’s social position was all that could be desired; he was evidently in easy pecuniary circumstances; he admired Catherine and Catherine’s child.  If he only proved to be a single man, Mrs. Presty’s prophetic soul, without waiting an instant to reflect, perceived a dazzling future.  Captain Bennydeck approached to take leave.  “Not just yet,” pleaded the most agreeable of women; “my luggage was ready two hours ago.  Sit down again for a few minutes.  You seem to like my little granddaughter.”

“If I had such a child as that,” the Captain answered, “I believe I should be the happiest man living.”

“Ah, my dear sir, all isn’t gold that glitters,” Mrs. Presty remarked.  “That proverb must have been originally intended to apply to children.  May I presume to make you the subject of a guess?  I fancy you are not a married man.”

The Captain looked a little surprised.  “You are quite right,” he said; “I have never been married.”

At a later period, Mrs. Presty owned that she felt an inclination to reward him for confessing himself to be a bachelor, by a kiss.  He innocently checked that impulse by putting a question.  “Had you any particular reason,” he asked, “for guessing that I was a single man?”

Mrs. Presty modestly acknowledged that she had only her own experience to help her.  “You wouldn’t be quite so fond of other people’s children,” she said, “if you were a married man.  Ah, your time will come yet—­I mean your wife will come.”

He answered this sadly.  “My time has gone by.  I have never had the opportunities that have been granted to some favored men.”  He thought of the favored man who had married Mrs. Norman.  Was her husband worthy of his happiness?  “Is Mr. Norman with you at this place?” the Captain asked.

Serious issues depended on the manner in which this question was answered.  For one moment, and for one moment only, Mrs. Presty hesitated.  Then (in her daughter’s interest, of course) she put Catherine in the position of a widow, in the least blamable of all possible ways, by honestly owning the truth.

“There is no Mr. Norman,” she said.

“Your daughter is a widow!” cried the Captain, perfectly unable to control his delight at that discovery.

“What else should she be?” Mrs. Presty replied, facetiously.

What else, indeed!  If “no Mr. Norman” meant (as it must surely mean) that Mr. Norman was dead, and if the beautiful mother of Kitty was an honest woman, her social position was beyond a doubt.  Captain Bennydeck felt a little ashamed of his own impetuosity.  Before he had made up his mind what to say next, the unlucky waiter (doomed to be a cause of disturbance on that day) appeared again.