“And you gave a frank statement of your ethical theories in such matters. If she had understood how entirely you meant it, she says, she might have been on her guard. You told her that Damastor ought to fall in love with the first pretty girl he met, and you had Adraste along at the time, to ensnare him.”

“As much as to say that Adraste was the first beauty he met. Not counting you, of course. On that same occasion Charitas told me Damastor was interested in you.”

“She couldn’t have told you that—he never was.”

“Well, what else did she say now?”

“That’s the substance, I think—she elaborated it.”

“She probably has forgotten one or two things I told her,” said Helen. “I pointed out that her desire to keep Damastor respectable would probably make him immoral. She didn’t mention that? Very odd! … What purpose does she think I could have in seducing her son through Adraste?”

“I’d rather not answer that question,” said Hermione.

“Answer it just the same,” said her father. “That interests me.”

“Well, she gave practically the same explanation as you did, father, when we were talking a while ago; she said it was mother’s age. Women of a certain type, she said, try to exercise their charms vicariously as they grow older.”

“That sounds like Charitas, but not like your father.”

“He said just that—didn’t you say it?”

“He never said it, and he doesn’t think it,” answered Helen. “In fact, if Pyrrhus comes, he desires me to keep to my room. In your father’s eyes I may some day be vicarious, but not yet.”

“That was my idea,” said Hermione. “I told him that.”

“Of course I’m flattered to have you women arguing about what I say and think,” said Menelaus, “but at the moment I’m more interested in what Charitas says. I’m getting a picture of my household from the outside.”

“She didn’t speak of the household,” said Hermione; “only about mother, and of course about Damastor and that girl.”

“We know what she said about the girl. What provision will she make for her grandchild?” said Helen.

“For her what?”

“There’s going to be a child, and Charitas is its grandmother. Haven’t you visualised the whole situation? Charitas has—that’s where the sting lies. Her mind runs on age because she’s a grandmother first.”

“Oh, no, you’re wrong, she doesn’t think of it as her grandchild; she spoke of it as though—well, as though it were a disease. I doubt if she will provide for it.”

“I thought she wouldn’t,” said Helen. “Your father and I shall have to, and perhaps it’s as safe for the child.”

“I’ll do nothing of the kind!” said Menelaus. “I told you Adraste must leave the house—Hermione, I was telling your mother that when you came in.”