own hands, the hands that were most
competent to deal with it. It was only to be expected that with his
experience he could see farther than the young man, his nephew. What Mr.
Randall saw beyond the scandal of the Divorce Court was a vision of
young Mrs. Ransome, wanton with liberty and plunging deeper, splashing
as she had not yet splashed, bespattering them all to the farthest
limits of her range. The question for Mr. Randall was how to stop her,
how to get her out of it, how to bring her to her sober senses before
she had done more damage than she had.

He wondered, had it occurred to Randall that he might take her back?

"Have you any idea," he said, "what made her do it?"

"Good God, what a question!"

Mr. Randall made a measured, balancing movement of his body while he
drummed with his fingers on the table.

"Well--" It was as if he took his question back, conceding its enormity.
He leaned forward now in his balancing, and lowered his voice to the
extreme of confidence.

"Have you any idea how far she's gone?" (It was as near as he could get
to it.)

"She's gone as far as Paris," said Ranny, with a grin. "Is that far
enough for you?"

Mr. Randall leaned back as with relief, and stopped balancing. "It might
be worse," he said, "far worse."

"How d'you mean--worse? Seems to me about as bad as it can be."

"It's unfortunate--but not so serious as if--" He paused profoundly. He
was visibly considering it from some private and personal point of view.
"She might have stayed in London. She might have carried on at your own
door or here in Wandsworth."

His nephew, Randall, was now regarding him with an attention the nature
of which he entirely misconceived. It gave him courage to speak out--his
whole mind and no mincing matters.

"If I were you, Randall, the first thing I should do is to get rid of
that young woman--that Dymond girl--" He put up his hand to ward off the
imminent explosion. "Yes, yes, I know _all_ you've got to say, my boy,
but it won't do. She's a young girl--"

"She's as good as they make them," said Ranny, glaring at him, "as good
as my mother there."

"Yes, yes, yes. I know all about it. But you mustn't have her there."

"Have her where?"

"Where I know she's been--where your mother says she's been--in your
house. Now, don't turn on your mother; she hasn't said a word against
her. I'm not saying a word. But you mustn't--have--her--about, Randall.
You mustn't have her about. There