’It seems that news came not so very long ago of a certain actress, singer,—­something of the kind, you understand?  Friends thought it their duty—­rightly, of course,—­to inform Mr. Mutimer.  I can’t say exactly who did it; but we know that Hubert Eldon is not regarded affectionately by a good many people.  My dear, he has been out of England for more than a month, living—­oh, such extravagance!  And the moral question, too?  You know—­those women!  Someone, they say, of European reputation; of course no names are breathed.  For my part, I can’t say I am surprised.  Young men, you know; and particularly young men of that kind!  Well, it has cost him a pretty penny; he’ll remember it as long as he lives.

‘Then the property will go—­’

’Yes, to the working people in London; the roughest of the rough, they say!  What will happen?  It will be impossible for us to live here if they come and settle at the Manor.  The neighbourhood will be intolerable.  Think of the rag-tag-and-bobtail they will bring with them!’

‘But Hubert!’ ejaculated Mrs. Waltham, whom this vision of barbaric onset affected little in the crashing together of a great airy castle.

’Well, my dear, after all he still has more to depend upon than many we could instance.  Probably he will take to the law,—­that is, if he ever returns to England.’

‘He is at the Manor,’ said Mrs. Waltham, with none of the pleasure it would ordinarily have given her to be first with an item of news.  ‘He came this afternoon.’

‘He did!  Who has seen him?’

‘Alfred and Adela passed him on the road.  He was in a cab.’

’I feel for his poor mother.  What a meeting it will be!  But then we must remember that they had no actual claim on the inheritance.  Of course it will be a most grievous disappointment, but what is life made of?  I’m afraid some people will be anything but grieved.  We must confess that Hubert has not been exactly popular; and I rather wonder at it; I’m sure he might have been if he had liked.  Just a little too—­too self-conscious, don’t you think?  Of course it was quite a mistake, but people had an idea that he presumed on wealth which was not his own.  Well, well, we quiet folk look on, don’t we?  It’s rather like a play.’

Presently Mrs. Mewling leaned forward yet more confidentially.

’My dear, you won’t be offended?  You don’t mind a question?  There wasn’t anything definite?—­Adela, I mean.’

‘Nothing, nothing whatever!’ Mrs. Waltham asserted with vigour.

‘Ha!’ Mrs. Mewling sighed deeply.  ’How relieved I am!  I did so fear!’

‘Nothing whatever,’ the other lady repeated.

’Thank goodness!  Then there is no need to breathe a word of those shocking matters.  But they do get abroad so!’

A reflection Mrs. Mewling was justified in making.

CHAPTER II