They are their mother’s sons. She spent a very disagreeable afternoon and evening—it was raining fast outside, and she had very unwisely left her soundest pair of boots in the boothole of her father’s house in Morningside Park—thinking over the economic situation and planning a course of action. "For ever!" said the thief-taker, preparing to follow. ‘Yes, miss. They were talking of “Alcide,” as they often did in those days. You won’t want to be late the first evening, and it’s ten minutes past seven now. And a custom had grown up of a general tea at four o’clock, under the auspices of a Miss Garvice, a tall and graceful girl of distinguished intellectual incompetence, in whom the hostess instinct seemed to be abnormally developed.
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