So they went into the library and conversed, with every conventional flourish, until Amelia set the pace of retirement by a ladylike yawn. But she had a word to say before parting, reserved perhaps to the last because she found herself doubtful of Raven's response. If she had to be snubbed she could simply keep on her way out of the room.
"John," said she, at the door, with the effect of a sudden thought, "how about Anne's estate? Are they getting it settled?"
Raven hesitated a perceptible instant. He somehow had an idea the estate was an affair of his, not to say Nan's.
"I suppose so," he answered, frowning. "Whitney's likely to do the right thing."
Amelia was never especially astute in the manner of danger signals.
"I suppose," she said, "you've made up your mind what to invest in. Or are the things in pretty good shape? Can you leave them as they are?"
Dick was standing by the hearth, wishing hard for a word with Nan. She had smiled at him once or twice, so peaceably! The next step might be to a truce and then everlasting bliss. Now, suddenly aware of his mother, he ungratefully kicked the fire that was making him such pretty dreams, went to her, took her by the arm and proceeded with her across the hall.
"You talk too much," said Dick, when he had her inside her room. "Don't you know better than to drag in Miss Anne? He's touchy as the devil."
"Then he must get over it," said Amelia, in her best manner of the intelligent mentor. "Of course, she was a great loss to him."
"Don't you believe it," said Dick conclusively. "She had her paw on him. What the deuce is it in him that makes all the women want to dry-nurse him and build him up and make him over?"