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That van was driven by Sissie!" "An example of fact imitating fiction!" remarked Mr. Prohack, seeking, not with complete success, to keep out of his voice the emotion engendered in him by Ozzie's too brief recital. "Now that's one question, and you have answered it brilliantly. My second and last question is this: Are you in love with Sissie " "Please, Mr. Prohack!"
"I went down to Southampton with Charlie," the culprit explained, giving a brief and imperfect history of the day, and adding that on the way home he had made a détour with Charles to look at a paper-manufactory. "And you couldn't have telephoned!" "Never thought of it!" "I'll run and tap at Sissie's door and tell her. Ozzie's with her. You'd better go straight to bed." "I'm hungry."
Eve asked, not eagerly, rather negligently, for she was now more distressed about her husband's behaviour than about Sissie. "At Ozzie's." As soon as he had uttered the words Mr. Prohack saw his wife's interest fly back from himself to their daughter. "What's she doing at Ozzie's?" "Well, she's living with him. They were married yesterday.
"Do you imagine that after my daughter had expressed her view of you by kissing you I could fail to share that view. You have a great opinion of Sissie, but I doubt whether your opinion of her is greater than mine. We will now have a little whiskey together." Ozzie's chubby face shone as in his agreeable agitation he searched for the eye-glass ribbon that was not there.
Some of Ozzie's wondrous trousers hung from stretchers behind the door, and the inference was that these had been displaced from the wardrobe in favour of Sissie's frocks. It was all highly curious and somewhat pathetic; and Mr. Prohack, contemplating, became anew a philosopher as he realised that the tiny apartment was the true expression of his daughter's individuality and volition.
A few minutes later he beheld a sight which affected him more deeply, and less pleasantly, than anything else in an evening of thunderclaps. Through the little window he saw Sissie dancing with Ozzie Morfey. And although Sissie was not gazing upward ecstatically into Ozzie's face she could not because they were of a size and although her features had a rather stern, fixed expression, Mr.
Mr. Prohack could not bear the spectacle of Ozzie's discomfiture. His sad weakness for pleasing people overcame him, and, putting his hand benevolently on the young man's shoulder, he said: "My dear fellow, personally I'm dying to go."
But how did you find out, you silly child?" "Ozzie saw her yesterday. He knew her. You can't imagine how awkward it was. Naturally I had to laugh it off. But I cried half the night." "But why? What did it matter? Ozzie's one of the family. The girl's not at all a bad sort, and I did it for her sake." Eve dried her eyes and looked up at him reproachfully with wet cheeks.
The front-door was open, disclosing the reassuring fact that the hall and staircase were at any rate carpeted. Mr. Prohack rang the bell attached to Ozzie's name, waited, rang again, waited, and then marched upstairs. Perhaps Ozzie was shaving. Not being accustomed to the organisation of tenements in fashionable quarters, Mr.
Prohack was convinced that Sissie, in addition to being an indescribably heartless daughter, was a perfect fool hoodwinked by a perfect ass, and that Ozzie's motive in the affair was not solely or chiefly admiration for Sissie, but admiration of the great fortune which, he had learnt, had fallen into the lap of Sissie's father.
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