Recognition

Lucy and Mrs. Jasher were having a confidential conversation in the
small pink drawing-room. True to her promise, Miss Kendal had come to
readjust matters between the fiery little Professor and the widow. But
it was not an easy task, as Mrs. Jasher was righteously indignant at the
rash words used to her.

"As if I knew anything about the matter," she repeated again and again
in angry tones. "Why, my dear, he as good as told me I had murdered--"

Lucy did not let her finish.

"There! there!" she said, speaking as she would have done to a fretful
child, "you know what my father is."

"It seems to me that I am just beginning to learn," said the widow
bitterly, "and knowing how ready he is to believe ill of me, I think it
is better we should part for ever."

"But you'll never be Lady Braddock."

"Even if I married him, I am not sure that I should be, since I learn
that his brother is singularly healthy and comes of a long-lived family.
And it will not be pleasant to live with your father when he has such a
temper."

"That was only because he was excited. Think of your salon, and of the
position you wish to hold in, London."

"Ah, well," said Mrs. Jasher, visibly softening, "there is something to
be said there. After all, one can never find a man who is perfection.
And a very amiable man is usually a fool. One can't expect a rose to
be without thorns. But really, my dear," she surveyed Lucy with mild
surprise, "you appear to be very anxious that I should marry your
father."