Mr. Wilcox then turned to his son.

"Now, Charles, what's happened?"

Charles was absolutely honest. He described what he believed to have
happened. Albert had flattened out a cat, and Miss Schlegel had lost her
nerve, as any woman might. She had been got safely into the other car,
but when it was in motion had leapt out again, in spite of all that they
could say. After walking a little on the road, she had calmed down and
had said that she was sorry. His father accepted this explanation, and
neither knew that Margaret had artfully prepared the way for it.
It fitted in too well with their view of feminine nature. In the
smoking-room, after dinner, the Colonel put forward the view that Miss
Schlegel had jumped it out of devilry. Well he remembered as a young
man, in the harbour of Gibraltar once, how a girl--a handsome girl,
too--had jumped overboard for a bet. He could see her now, and all the
lads overboard after her. But Charles and Mr. Wilcox agreed it was much
more probably nerves in Miss Schlegel's case. Charles was depressed.
That woman had a tongue. She would bring worse disgrace on his father
before she had done with them. He strolled out on to the castle mound to
think the matter over. The evening was exquisite. On three sides of him
a little river whispered, full of messages from the West; above his head
the ruins made patterns against the sky. He carefully reviewed their
dealings with this family, until he fitted Helen, and Margaret, and Aunt
Juley into an orderly conspiracy. Paternity had made him suspicious.
He had two children to look after, and more coming, and day by day
they seemed less likely to grow up rich men. "It is all very well,"
he reflected, "the pater's saying that he will be just to all, but one
can't be just indefinitely. Money isn't elastic. What's to happen if
Evie has a family? And, come to that, so may the pater. There'll not be
enough to go round, for there's none coming in, either through Dolly or
Percy. It's damnable!" He looked enviously at the Grange, whose windows
poured light and laughter. First and last, this wedding would cost a
pretty penny. Two ladies were strolling up and down the garden terrace,
and as the syllables "Imperialism" were wafted to his ears, he guessed
that one of them was his aunt. She might have helped him, if she too had
not had a family to provide for. "Every one for himself," he repeated--a
maxim which had cheered him in the past, but which rang grimly enou