Chapter 28

That a previously scarcely suspected daughter of Mrs. Gareth-Lawless
had become a member of the household of the Dowager Duchess of
Darte stirred but a passing wave of interest in a circle which was
not that of Mrs. Gareth-Lawless herself and which upon the whole
but casually acknowledged its curious existence as a modern
abnormality. Also the attitude of the Duchess herself was composedly
free from any admission of necessity for comment.

"I have no pretty young relative who can be spared to come and
live with me. I am fond of things pretty and young and I am greatly
pleased with what a kind chance put in my way," she said. In her
discussion of the situation with Coombe she measured it with her
customary fine acumen.

"Forty years ago it could not have been done. The girl would have
been made uncomfortable and outside things could not have been
prevented from dragging themselves in. Filial piety in the mass
would have demanded that the mother should be accounted for. Now
a genial knowledge of a variety in mothers leaves Mrs. Gareth-Lawless
to play about with her own probably quite amusing set. Once poor
Robin would have been held responsible for her and so should I. My
position would have seemed to defy serious moral issues. But we
have reached a sane habit of detaching people from their relations.
A nice condition we should be in if we had not."

"You, of course, know that Henry died suddenly in some sort of
fit at Ostend." Coombe said it as if in a form of reply. She had
naturally become aware of it when the rest of the world did, but
had not seen him since the event.

"One did not suppose his constitution would have lasted so long,"
she answered. "You are more fortunate in young Donal Muir. Have
you seen him and his mother?"

"I made a special journey to Braemarnie and had a curious interview
with Mrs. Muir. When I say 'curious' I don't mean to imply that it
was not entirely dignified. It was curious only because I realize
that secretly she regards with horror and dread the fact that her
boy is the prospective Head of the House of Coombe. She does not
make a jest of it as I have had the temerity to do. It's a cheap
defense, this trick of making an eternal jest of things, but it
IS a defense and one has formed the habit."

"She has never done it--Helen Muir," his friend said. "On the
whole I believe she at times knows that she has been too grave.
She was a beautiful creature passionately in love with her husband.
When such a husband is taken away from such a woman and his child
is left it often happens that the flood of her love is turned into
one current and that it is almost overwhelming. She is