“Yes, acquaintances!  All very well, but I mean friends—­rich friends.”

“We will think of it, papa,” said Adela, “when we want money.”

“It isn’t that,” he murmured.

Adela had written to Wilfrid a full account of her interview with her father.  Wilfrid’s reply was laconic.  “If you cannot stand a week of the brogue, give up Besworth, by all means.”  He made no further allusion to the place.  They engaged an opera-box, for the purpose of holding a consultation with him in town.  He wrote evasively, but did not appear, and the ladies, with Emilia between them, listened to every foot-fall by the box-door, and were too much preoccupied to marvel that Emilia was just as inattentive to the music as they were.  When the curtain dropped they noticed her dejection.

“What ails you?” they asked.

“Let us go out of London to-night,” she whispered, and it was difficult to persuade her that she would see Brookfield again.

“Remember,” said Adela, “it is you that run away from us, not we from you.”

Soft chidings of this description were the only reproaches for her naughty conduct.  She seemed contrite very still and timid, since that night of adventure.  The ladies were glad to observe it, seeing that it lent her an air of refinement, and proved her sensible to correction.

At last Mr. Pole broke the silence.  He had returned from business, humming and rubbing his hands, like one newly primed with a suggestion that was the key of a knotty problem.  Observant Adela said:  “Have you seen Wilfrid, papa?”

“Saw him in the morning,” Mr. Pole replied carelessly.

Mr. Barrett was at the table.

“By the way, what do you think of our law of primogeniture?” Mr. Pole addressed him.

He replied with the usual allusion to a basis of aristocracy.

“Well, it’s the English system,” said Mr. Pole.  “That’s always in its favour at starting.  I’m Englishman enough to think that.  There ought to be an entail of every decent bit of property, eh?”

It was observed that Mr. Barrett reddened as he said, “I certainly think that a young man should not be subject to his father’s caprice.”

“Father’s caprice!  That isn’t common.  But, if you’re founding a family, you must entail.”

“We agree, sir, from my point of view, and from yours.”

“Knits the family bond, don’t you think?  I mean, makes the trunk of the tree firm.  It makes the girls poor, though!”

Mr. Barrett saw that he had some confused legal ideas in his head, and that possibly there were personal considerations in the background; so he let the subject pass.

When the guest had departed, Mr. Pole grew demonstrative in his paternal caresses.  He folded Adela in one arm, and framed her chin in his fingers:  marks of affection dear to her before she had outgrown them.

“So!” he said, “you’ve given up Besworth, have you?”