The interview with her nephew's wife had tried her, and her reflections were rather bitter.

For the twentieth time she asked herself why her nephew had fallen in love with this unknown girl from London, who loathed the country.

From Miss Heredith's point of view, a girl who smoked and talked slang lacked all sense of the dignity of the high position to which she had been called, and was in every way unfitted to become the mother of the next male Heredith, if, indeed, she consented to bear an heir at all.

It was Miss Heredith's constant regret that Phil had not married some nice girl of the county, in his own station of life, instead of a London girl.
Miss Heredith terminated her reflections with a sigh, and turned away from the window.

She was above all things practical, and fully realized the folly of brooding over the inevitable, but the marriage of her nephew was a sore point with her.