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"Why Mrs. Dallas wants Isabella to marry David." Not another word would the major say on the subject at that moment, so Maurice was forced to seek his room in a very unsatisfied frame of mind. However, as he thought, here was one mystery about to be explained, and that was a comfort. As Jen prophesied, David did not return to dinner, and Maurice had a tête-à-tête with his guardian. But they talked of indifferent things, and it was not until they were once more in the smoking-room with cigars and coffee that the major consented to speak on the subject of Mrs. Dallas' strange conduct. The door clicked behind them and they set their faces to the sunset, and Greycroft, and home. "It doesn't matter just for tonight, does it, Mama Shelly?" she asked with pretty deference. "There are going to be such a lot of nights to go to bed early in.".
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"I may be a believer in votes for women," she said solemnly, clasping her vanity case so hard that she unconsciously shattered its clasp. "I may be a yellow suffragist, as Judy calls me, but I must say, men can make things mighty comfortable for you." Griffin emerged as suddenly as she had disappeared. "But it's the men that spoil her," she went on as though no interruption had occurred. "They're polite to her because she's so everlastingly gloomy. Same sort of politeness they'd show to a hearse, you know—respectful but not companionable." "Phew! That's great!" cried Patricia, springing lightly to her feet. "It's more like flying than anything else." "Pardon me, doctor," said Maurice, stiffly. "I mention no names.".
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