He was standing on the rug—a young fellow of good height and muscular make, a wonderful development from the overgrown reedy youth who had gone away more than twelve months earlier. The sickly white complexion of those days had given place to a healthy tan; and the face was strong, bright, good-looking. The eyes showed penetration and thought; the mouth spoke of firmness; the nose had that indefinable line, seen in side-face, which almost invariably denotes a sweet temper.
"He'll do," thought Mr. Elvey, after a moment's survey. "Successful experiment!"
"But you didn't go to the South Sea Islands," Ethel said, in answer to Nigel's last remark, while the three boys, varying in ages from sixteen to thirteen, stood admiringly round the returned traveller.
"No, we had not time. I should have liked it. But I didn't want to be longer away."
"And now—College?" asked Mr. Elvey.
"I hope so. After Christmas."
"And then?"
"If my father is willing, the Bar."
"He knows your wish."
"Has known it for years. I never could understand the reasons for his hesitation."