Aunt Hester and Mrs. Stanier had gone: there were only Dennis and Violet at lunch when he came in. Neither had seen him for these two weeks, nor had they any clue as to his attitude towards them, except such as was implied by his refusal to see them. They were not left long in doubt.
They had both risen on his entry.
“Ah, Colin,” said she, “this is splendid.”
He turned upon her the full bleakness of his face.
“We’ll take the splendour for granted,” said he. “Ah, there’s Dennis. It’s splendid, isn’t it, Dennis, to have got rid of me for all your holidays? That’s what your mother means.”
Dennis looked at him unwaveringly. The moment when Colin had leaped in after him was so far more real than anything else that could be said or done in the whole world.
“But she doesn’t mean that, Father,” he said, “nor do I.”
“Oh, you’ve learned to contradict in my absence, have you?” asked Colin.
Dennis was still radiant.
“Sorry, Father,” he said.