"You're master in your own house, I suppose? You can decide whom to receive, Mr. Ledstone." He pushed his chair back a little; the movement was unmistakably a suggestion that his visitor should end his visit. Mr. Ledstone did not take the hint.
"I suppose you'll—you'll institute proceedings, Mr. Maxon?"
"I'm not a believer in divorce."
"You won't?"
"I said I was not a believer in divorce." Growing exasperation, hard held, rang in his voice.
A visible relief brightened Mr. Ledstone's face. "You won't?" he repeated. "Oh, well, that's something. That gives us time at all events."
Maxon smiled—not genially. "I don't think you must assume that your son and the lady who now calls herself Mrs. Ledstone will be as much pleased as you appear to be."
"Oh, but if there are no proceedings!" murmured Ledstone. Then he ventured a suggestion. "Private influence could be brought to bear?"
"Not mine," said Cyril Maxon grimly.
"Still, you don't propose to take proceedings!" He munched the crumb of comfort almost affectionately.