Guy knew, as they were walking back to Plashers Mead, how little worth while it was to ask what his father had thought of the Greys; but, nevertheless, he could not resist the direct inquiry.
"They seem a very happy-go-lucky family," was the reply. "I thought it extremely strange that Mr. Grey did not take the trouble to be at home for my visit. I should have thought that in regard to his daughter's future I might be considered sufficiently.... However, it's all of a piece."
Guy hated the mock-modest lacuna in the characterization, and he thought of the many schoolmasters he had known whose consciousness of external opinion never allowed them to claim a virtue for themselves, although their least action always contained an implication of merit.
Guy made some excuse for the Rector's absence and rather moodily walked on beside his father. The battle should be to-night; and after dinner he came directly to the point.
"I hope you like Pauline?"
"My dear Guy, your impulsiveness extends too far. How can I, after a few minutes' conversation, pronounce an opinion?"
"But she's not a pathological case," cried Guy in exasperation.
"Precisely," retorted his father. "And therefore I pay her the compliment of not rushing into headstrong approval or disapproval. Certainly she seemed to me superficially a very charming girl, but I should be inclined to think somewhat excitable."
"Of course she was shy."
"Naturally. These sudden immersions in new relationships do not make for ease. I was myself a little embarrassed. But, after all, the question is not whether I like—er—Pauline, but whether I am justified on her account as well as on yours in giving my countenance to this ridiculous engagement. Please don't interrupt me. My time is short, and I must, as your father, fulfil my obligations to you by saying what I have to say."