"That's all right," he said, with a faint condescension. "Don't you worry about that."
She did not press the point. He could be free enough with information--except when it was demanded. Some time later he would begin of his own accord to talk.
"How was Auntie Hamps?"
"Well, if anything, she's a bit easier. I don't mind betting she gets over it."
They went into the dining-room almost side by side, and she enquired again about his headache.
The meal was tranquil. After a few moments Edwin opened the subject of Auntie Hamps's illness with some sardonic remarks upon the demeanour of Albert Benbow.
"Is Auntie dying?" asked George with gusto.
Edwin replied:
"What are those schoolbooks doing there on the sideboard? I thought it was clearly understood that you were to do your lessons in your mother's boudoir."
He spoke without annoyance, but coldly. He was aware that neither Hilda nor her son could comprehend that to a bookman schoolbooks were not books, but merely an eyesore. He did not blame them for their incapacity, but he considered that an arrangement was an arrangement.