“Did I? No, she didn’t exactly alarm me, except that she was so correct. I don’t really know the word I want.”

“Never mind about Miss Arden. Did you see Elizabeth?”

“Yes, she poured out the tea, and she didn’t forget that I don’t like mine strong. Quite a dear girl. She reminds me of someone, only I can’t remember who. Someone who lived at some place beginning with a B, I think. You must know, Stephen. No, I’ve got it. Marion Tapley; she died before you were born, poor thing. Yes, and she lived at Weybridge, and I remember thinking at the time that she just suited the place. She had an impediment in her speech.”

“Hang it all, mater, Elizabeth hasn’t got an impediment—”

“What a horrible idea, darling! I shouldn’t have liked her at all if she had. As a matter of fact she has a very pretty voice. Such an asset! Do you remember Kate Dalkeith? Poor dear, she was almost ugly, but what a beautiful voice!”

“Yes, mater, but we’re not talking about Kate Dalkeith.”

She smiled happily across at him.

“Nor we are. I’ve lost myself again. Oh, yes, about Elizabeth! Very young, Stephen.”

“Nearly twenty, mater.”

“Well, darling, that is very young. I don’t know how old you are—at least, of course, I do, but I’ve forgotten for the moment.”

“Twenty-seven.”

“Dear me, Stephen, what a dreadful thought! Why, Cynthia must be twenty-five.”

“She is. You gave her that diamond brooch on her birthday.”

“So I did.” Mrs. Ramsay nodded pensively. “With an emerald in the middle.”

Stephen brought his cup to her to be replenished. Her small white hands fluttered over the tea-tray, from milk-jug to sugar bowl.

“You don’t really like Elizabeth, mater?”

“Yes, I do, Stephen. Why not?”

“You don’t give me the impression—”

“My dear, do I ever give people a right impression? Elizabeth seemed to me a very sweet child. But isn’t she rather a throw-back? Or do I mean a missing-link?”

“Good lord, I hope not! You mean that she’s old-fashioned?”

“So prim,” she explained.

There fell a tiny pause.

“That’s rather a beastly word, mater.”

Mrs. Ramsay put down the slice of bread and butter she had so carefully folded in half.

“I’m sure it isn’t. What have I said that was awful?”

“Prim.”

“Oh, that! It’s not awful at all, Stephen. I thought I’d said something I shouldn’t from your expression.”

“So you did. Elizabeth could never be prim.”

“Couldn’t she, darling? I expect you know her a lot better than I do.”

This was unsatisfactory. Stephen glowered into the fire.

“You’ve allowed Cynthia to influence your judgment, mater.”

“Dear Cynny! So domineering. No, I don’t mean domineering. Downright. That’s better.”

“What did she say about Elizabeth?”