"It's not as if you were wild. You've never got
into any scrapes at Oxford. You've spent your time collecting old
china and prayer rugs. You wear flannel next your skin . . ."
"Will you please be quiet," said Lady Caroline impatiently. "Go
on, Percy."
"Oh, very well," said Lord Marshmoreton. "I only spoke. I merely
made a remark."
"You say you saw Maud in Piccadilly, Percy?"
"Precisely. I was on the point of putting it down to an extraordinary
resemblance, when suddenly she got into a cab. Then I knew."
Lord Marshmoreton could not permit this to pass in silence. He was
a fair-minded man.
"Why shouldn't the girl have got into a cab? Why must a girl
walking along Piccadilly be my daughter Maud just because she got
into a cab. London," he proceeded, warming to the argument and
thrilled by the clearness and coherence of his reasoning, "is full
of girls who take cabs."
"She didn't take a cab."
"You just said she did," said Lord Marshmoreton cleverly.
"I said she got into a cab. There was somebody else already in the
cab. A man. Aunt Caroline, it was the man."
"Good gracious," ejaculated Lady Caroline, falling into a chair as
if she had been hamstrung.
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