Alistair had remained still, with his head resting in his hands, as though exhausted by his passion. Hearing the door close, he looked up sullenly.
“Well, what do you want with me?” he asked.
Faithful to his resolve to be gracious, in spite of the provocations he had received, the Duke made a mild answer.
“I want you to come home, Alistair.”
“This is home.”
“My house is your home,” said James, not unkindly; and, with a tact of which he was not always capable, he added: “Our mother’s house is the home of both of us.”
Alistair reddened.
“How is she?” he muttered.
“She is very anxious and unhappy about you. I have promised her to save you, if you will let me.”
This time the elder brother’s words were not so well chosen. It always grated on Alistair to be reminded that he was dependent on James.