Pemberton recognised in fact the importance of the character--from the
advantage it gave Mr. Moreen. He was not even confused or embarrassed,
whereas the young man in his service was more so than there was any
reason for. Neither was he surprised--at least any more than a gentleman
had to be who freely confessed himself a little shocked--though not
perhaps strictly at Pemberton.
"We must go into this, mustn't we, dear?" he said to his wife. He
assured his young friend that the matter should have his very best
attention; and he melted into space as elusively as if, at the door, he
were taking an inevitable but deprecatory precedence. When, the next
moment, Pemberton found himself alone with Mrs. Moreen it was to hear her
say "I see, I see"--stroking the roundness of her chin and looking as if
she were only hesitating between a dozen easy remedies. If they didn't
make their push Mr. Moreen could at least disappear for several days.
During his absence his wife took up the subject again spontaneously, but
her contribution to it was merely that she had thought all the while they
were getting on so beautifully.
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