He's sure to know best." "Is he ?" muttered Val.

"But what did become of Aunt Irene?
I remember she was jolly good-looking." "She--er...." said Emily, "behaved very badly.

We don't talk about it." "Well, I don't want everybody at Oxford to know about our affairs," ejaculated Val; "it's a brutal idea.

Why couldn't father be prevented without its being made public ?" Emily sighed.

She had always lived rather in an atmosphere of divorce, owing to her fashionable proclivities--so many of those whose legs had been under her table having gained a certain notoriety.