Beneath the unruffled surface, dark shapes flit

From Chapter 2, 'The Course of True Love':

[Sue Brown, a chorus girl, has just revealed to her fiancé, Ronnie Fish, nephew of Lord Emsworth, that her mother was a music-hall singer]

'What they used to call a Serio. You know — Pink tights and rather risky songs.'

This time Ronnie did not say 'Juk!' He merely swallowed painfully. The information had come as a shock to him. Somehow or other, he had never thought of Sue as having encumbrances in the shape of relatives; and he could not hide from himself the fact that a pink-tighted Serio might stir the Family up quite a little. He pictured something with peroxide hair who would call his Uncle Clarence "dearie".

'English, do you mean? On the Halls here in London?'

'Yes. Her stage name was Dolly Henderson.'

'Never heard of her.'

'I daresay not. But she was the rage of London twenty years ago.'

'I always thought you were American,' said Ronnie, aggrieved. 'I distinctly recollect Hugo, when he introduced us, telling me that you had just come over from New York.'

'So I had. Father took me to America soon after mother died.'

'Oh, your mother is — er — no longer with us?'

'No.'

'Too bad,' said Ronnie, brightening.

Seriously — comme disent les jeunes — wtf? Bad enough that, when your beloved tells you at a weirdly late stage in your relationship that her mother is dead, you feel relief rather than compassion; but can't you disguise the blank spot in your soul more effectually?