‘Eh bien?’ She thrust again, from the same place. ’ He stopped suddenly, dismay creeping into his face. Was he your natural father? Did you know him?” “No, I didn’t. “Then let me be the judge of what is best,” she answered. He looked at his port wine as though that tawny ruby contained the solution of the matter. She let her mind run into dreams of that cloud paradise of an altered world in which the Goopes and Minivers, the Fabians and reforming people believed. But when all was over, a sorrowful calm succeeded, and, if not free from grief, she was tranquil. She understood. It is the horse of the priest, you understand, and—and he does not know that I have borrowed it.
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