That choice of Stella’s seemed to mark more decisively than anything she had said or done his own second place in her thoughts nowadays.
When the bride and bridegroom were gone, Michael sat with his mother, talking.
“I had arranged to go to the South of France with Mrs. Carruthers,” she told him. “But if you’re going to be here, I could put her off.”
Michael felt rather guilty. He had not considered his mother’s loneliness, and he had meant to return at once to Leppard Street.
“No, no, I’m going away again,” he told her.
“Just as you like, dearest boy.”
“You’re glad about Stella?”
“Very glad.”
“And you like Alan?”
“Of course. Charming—charming.”