“I’m sure she told you that.”

“She did and I agreed with her. I am most strongly opposed to this affair with Dinah, and I am most relieved to hear that so far it is, as you put it, purely tentative.”

“If Dinah loves me,” said Henry, setting the Jernigham jaw, “I shall marry her. And that’s flat. If Eleanor wasn’t here to jog at your pride, father, you would at least try to see my side. But Eleanor won’t let you. She dramatises herself as the first lady of the district. The squiress. The chatelaine of Pen Cuckoo. She sees Dinah as a sort of rival. What’s more, I believe she’s genuinely jealous of Dinah. It’s the jealousy of a woman of her age and disposition, a jealousy rooted in sex.”

“Disgusting balderdash!” said Jocelyn, angrily, but he looked uncomfortable.

“No!” cried Henry. “No, it’s not. I’m not talking highbrow pornography. You must have seen what Eleanor is. She’s an avid woman. She was in love with you until she found it was a hopeless proposition. Now she and her girl friend the Campanula are rivals for the rector. Dinah says all old maids always fall in love with her father. Everybody sees it. It’s a recognised phenomenon with women of Eleanor’s and Idris Campanula’s type. Have you heard her on the subject of Dr. Templett and Selia Ross? She’s nosed out a scandal there. The next thing that happens will be Eleanor feeling it her duty to warn poor Mrs. Templett that her husband is too fond of the widow. That is, if Idris Campanula doesn’t get in first. Women like Eleanor and Miss Campanula are pathological. Dinah says — ”

“Do you and Dinah discuss my cousin’s attachment, which I don’t admit, for the rector? If you do, I consider it shows an extraordinary lack of manners and taste.”

“Dinah and I,” said Henry, “discuss everything.”

“And this is modern love-making!”