"Your father likes Mr. Wagstaff. And I do think that Pen is—not exactly in love, perhaps, but really attached to him."
"And what about Magda?"
"I don't know what to think. I am rather sorry that Mr. Fairfax has turned up. He is such a good pleasant fellow; but Magda's head is completely turned. And I cannot see that it is his fault. She takes it for granted that he is just the same now as when she was a child. And really—such a friendship—after all these years—"
"That is all nonsense, mother."
"Magda doesn't see it so. She seems never to have a doubt. And his is not the manner of a lover. He lets her talk, and he chaffs her, but I don't believe he is touched."
"Whether Magda is touched seems more to the point!"
"It is my fear. But what can one do? Speaking too soon might do harm. I don't want to put the idea into Magda's head that he is after her."
"You don't suppose the idea isn't in her head already!"
"I really cannot say, Rob. She is still so oddly childish in some respects—actually in many ways younger than Merryl, since Merryl's illness. Magda seems to think of nothing beyond their old friendship. She is continually recurring to it. Mr. Fairfax must grow rather sick of the subject. And—perhaps I am only fancying—but I do sometimes think he is a little taken with Merryl."
"That infant!"