"Well, we shall see," said Edwin mysteriously, firmly, and loftily; meaning that, if his opinion were invited, his opinion would be that Hilda would not go away to-morrow and that whenever she went she would not go to London.
He had decided to have a grand altercation with his wife that night, when Ingpen and Mrs. Tams had departed and George was asleep and they had the house to themselves. He knew his ground and he could force a decisive battle. He felt no doubt as to the result. The news of his triumph should reach Ingpen.
Ingpen was apparently about to take up the conversation when George came clumsily and noisily into the drawing-room. All his charm seemed to have left him.
"I thought you were going to help," said Edwin.
"So I am," George challenged him; and, lacking the courage to stop at that point, added: "But they aren't ready yet."
"Let's try those Haydn bits, George," Ingpen suggested.
"Oh no!" said George curtly.
Ingpen and the boy had begun to play easy fragments of duets together.
Edwin said with sternness:
"Sit down to that piano and do as Mr. Ingpen asks you."