"
"Well, we're all getting acquainted pretty quick, don't you think?
I met your son in Piccadilly and had a long talk with him, and now
you are paying me a neighbourly visit."
"This was not intended to be a social call."
"But it has become one."
"And then, that is one point I wish to make, you know. Ours is an
old family, I would like to remind you that there were
Marshmoretons in Belpher before the War of the Roses."
"There were Bevans in Brooklyn before the B.R.T."
"I beg your pardon?"
"I was only pointing out that I can trace my ancestry a long way.
You have to trace things a long way in Brooklyn, if you want to
find them."
"I have never heard of Brooklyn."
"You've heard of New York?"
"Certainly."
"New York's one of the outlying suburbs."
Lord Marshmoreton relit his pipe. He had a feeling that they were
wandering from the point.
"It is quite impossible."
"I can't see it."
"Maud is so young."
"Your daughter could be nothing else."
"Too young to know her own mind," pursued Lord Marshmoreton,
resolutely crushing down a flutter of pleasure. There was no doubt
that this singularly agreeable man was making things very difficult
for him.
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