“Oh, I see! Yes, I believe mine are like that. They live in the Isle of Wight.”

“I didn’t know anybody did,” Mrs. Ramsay said innocently. “I always thought the Isle of Wight was just a place everyone went to in the summer. That’s why I never did. Try some of that cake. I bought it myself because it looked like the Albert Memorial.”

“Oh, that eyesore!” Elizabeth cried.

“My dear, it’s wonderful. I go and stare at it periodically and gasp.”

“But don’t you think it’s ugly?” Elizabeth asked.

“Marvellously. It’s just as though an ancient Greek did all the stone work at the base and Joseph Lyons came and put the chocolate wedding-cake on top. I wonder whether he did? I must ask Stephen. Yes, and that’s brought us back to Stephen. The Albert Memorial and Stephen. How dreadful! When is he going to take you down to Queen’s Halt?”

“He hasn’t said anything about it—yet. You see—it was only yesterday that he—that we—”

“So it was! Such an attractive house, Elizabeth—in the summer. Ingle nooks and beamed ceilings. Yes, and a warming-pan. Rather draughty in winter—not the warming-pan, but the house. Stephen’s grandfather pushed I don’t know how much Louis Quinze furniture into it, and it simply shrieked. However, we’ve got rid of it all now, so you needn’t be alarmed.” Her hands began to wander over the tea-tray again, and she looked worried. “I’m sure I haven’t said all the things I ought to say. I’ve had no experience, you see, and it’s difficult. Anthony simply said, Please can I marry Cynthia? and I answered, Yes, if you take care of her. I can’t very well tell you to take care of Stephen, can I?”

“I—I will, though,” Elizabeth said.

“Yes, I think perhaps you will. The best thing I can say is, Be as happy as you can and—and never give him kippers for breakfast. He hates them.”

Elizabeth took this quite seriously, and made a mental note of it.

“Before we—before we’re married, will you please tell me all those sort of things that I ought to know?” she asked diffidently.

“My dear, I don’t know them myself,” Mrs. Ramsay said. “I only remember about the kippers because Stephen once threw one out of the window. By the tail. It looked so pathetic, and the garden was infested by cats for days afterwards.”

“Threw it out of the window?” Elizabeth gasped. “Stephen?”

“Dear me, yes. Quite a dreadful exhibition, wasn’t it? I remember old Mrs. Taunton was staying with us at the time and she was quite surprised. Rather shocked too, and really one can’t wonder at it. Still, it did look funny.”

“But what an extraordinary thing to do,” Elizabeth said slowly.