"Nonsense, mother," letting her hand go and turning away impatiently. "You speak as if it were all settled."
"Why should it not be settled?"
"You talk without thinking!" He is frowning now, and his tone is growing angry. "Am I the only one to be consulted?"
"Oh! as for her—that child! Of course you can influence her."
"I don't want to," wearily.
"You can do more than that. You are very good-looking, Maurice. You can——" She hesitates.
"Can what?" coldly.
"Fascinate her."
"I shall certainly not even try to do that. Good heavens! what do you mean?" says her son, colouring a dark red with very shame. "Are you asking me to make love to this girl—to pretend an admiration for her that I do not feel? To—to—lie to her?"
"I am only asking you to be sensible," says his mother sullenly. She has gone back to her chair, and now, with lowered lids and compressed lips, is fanning herself angrily.