“No, seriously,” he said, in his quality of an amateur of dogs; “she is very fine.” Even then he could not help adding: “What you can see of her!”
Whereupon Sophia shook her head, deprecating such wit. Sophia was very lenient towards him. Her leniency could be perceived in her eyes, which followed his movements all the time. “Do you think he is like me, Constance?” she asked.
“I wish I was half as good-looking,” said Cyril, quickly; and Constance said:
“As a baby he was very like you. He was a handsome baby. He wasn’t at all like you when he was at school. These last few years he’s begun to be like you again. He’s very much changed since he left school; he was rather heavy and clumsy then.”
“Heavy and clumsy!” exclaimed Sophia. “Well, I should never have believed it!”
“Oh, but he was!” Constance insisted.
“Now, mater,” said Cyril, “it’s a pity you don’t want that cake cutting into. I think I could have eaten a bit of that cake. But of course if it’s only for show...!”
Constance sprang up, seizing a knife.
“You shouldn’t tease your mother,” Sophia told him. “He doesn’t really want any, Constance; he’s regularly stuffed himself.”
And Cyril agreed, “No, no, mater, don’t cut it; I really couldn’t. I was only gassing.”