Now suppose you could elope with a new man every week and no questions asked? Or how often would you want to?’

Sylvia said:

‘Just a moment, Father,’ and she addressed Mrs. Satterthwaite: ‘I suppose I shall have to put myself to bed.’

‘You will,’ Mrs. Satterthwaite said. ‘I’ll not have any maid kept up after ten in a holiday resort. What’s she to do in a place like this? Except listen for the bogies it’s full of?’

‘Always considerate!’ Mrs. Tietjens gibed. ‘And perhaps it’s just as well. I’d probably beat that Marie of your’s arms to pieces with a hair-brush if she came near me.’ She added: ‘You were talking about men, Father.…’ And then began with sudden animation to her mother:

‘I’ve changed my mind about that telegram. The first thing to-morrow I shall wire: “Agreed entirely but arrange bring Hullo Central with you.” ’

She addressed the priest again:

‘I call my maid Hullo Central because she’s got a tinny voice like a telephone. I say: “Hullo Central” – when she answers “Yes, modd’m”, you’d swear it was the Exchange speaking.… But you were telling me about men.’

‘I was reminding you!’ the Father said. ‘But I needn’t go on. You’ve caught the drift of my remarks. That is why you are pretending not to listen.’

‘I assure you, no,’ Mrs. Tietjens said. ‘It is simply that if a thing comes into my head I have to say it. You were saying that if one went away with a different man for every week-end.…’

‘You’ve shortened the period already,’ the priest said. ‘I gave a full week to every man.’

‘But, of course, one would have to have a home,’ Sylvia said, ‘an address. One would have to fill one’s mid-week engagements. Really it comes to it that one has to have a husband and a place to store one’s maid in. Hullo Central’s been on board-wages all the time. But I don’t believe she likes it.… Let’s agree that if I had a different man every week I’d be bored with the arrangement. That’s what you’re getting at, isn’t it?’

‘You’d find,’ the priest said, ‘that it whittled down until the only divvy moment was when you stood waiting in the booking-office for the young man to take the tickets. And then gradually that wouldn’t be divvy any more.… And you’d yawn and long to go back to your husband.’

‘Look here,’ Mrs. Tietjens said, ‘you’re abusing the secrets of the confessional. That’s exactly what Tottie Charles said. She tried it for three months while Freddie Charles was in Madeira. It’s exactly what she said down to the yawn and the booking-office. And the “divvy”. It’s only Tottie Charles who uses it every two words. Most of us prefer “ripping”! It is more sensible.’

‘Of course I haven’t been abusing the secrets of the confessional,’ Father Consett said mildly.

‘Of course you haven’t,’ Sylvia said with affection.