"The facts, my boy."

"You've got all there are."

"How about that young woman up at your place?"

"What young woman?"

"That Miss--"

Ranny's mother supplied his loss. "Miss Dymond."

"What's she got to do with it?" said Ranny.

"I'm asking you. What _has_ she?"

"Nothing. You can keep her out of it."

"That's what I should advise _you_ to do, my boy."

Ranny dropped his defiance and sank his flushed forehead. "I _have_ kept her out of it." His voice was grave and very low.

"Not if she's there. Taking everything upon her and looking after your children."

"What harm's she doing looking after them?"

"You'll soon know if you take it into a court of law."

"Who told you I was going to take it?"

"That's what I'm trying to get at. _Are_ you?"

"Am I going to divorce her, you mean?"

That was what he had meant. It was also what he was afraid of, what he hoped to dissuade his nephew from. Above all things he dreaded the public scandal of divorce.

"Yes," he said. "Is it bad enough for that?"

"It's bad enough for anything. But I don't know what I'm going to do."

"Well, it won't do to have that young woman's name brought forward in the evidence."

"Who'd bring it?"

"Why, _she_ might" (Randall's face was blank). "Your wife, if she defends the suit. That would be her game, you may be sure."

It would, Randall reflected. That was the very point suggested last night by his inner sanity, the use that might be made of Winny. Winny's innocent presence in his house might ruin his case if it were known.

What was worse, far worse, it would ruin Winny. Whatever he did he must keep Winny out of it.

"I haven't said I was going to bring an action."

"Well--and I don't advise you to. Why have the scandal and the publicity when you can avoid it?"

"Why, Ranny," his mother cried, "it would kill your Father."

Ranny scowled. Her cry failed to touch him.

Mr. Randall went on. He felt that he was bringing his nephew round, that he was getting the case into his 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, splas.h.i.+ng 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 G.o.d, 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'd be talk and all, before you know where you are. It isn't right and it isn't proper."

"No, Ranny, it isn't proper," said his mother; and his aunt said, No, it wasn't, too.

Ranny laughed unpleasantly.