“That’s good. And any signs of character yet emerging?” asked Colin.
“Only the desire to investigate and explore.... Colin, about the other matter——”
He interrupted her.
“I know what you are going to say, darling,” he said. “You will tell me to do my own dirty work, though, of course, you’ll put it much more politely. Was that it?”
“Yes. It’s your house, and if you choose to turn my father and mother out you must do it yourself.”
Colin patted her hand.
“Well, well: don’t let us quarrel on the very evening I come home,” he said. “I just note that you don’t intend to do as I ask you, but I daresay you’ll be very glad to before long. Now about Dennis. He likes investigating and exploring, does he? That’s like me. We must feed him with plenty of material, direct his attention, as he grows, to all sorts of things. Early impressions are so important: they form a child’s character and mind, so psycho-analysts say. And you never can tell what may be impressing itself. I must see a lot of Dennis.”
He laughed quietly to himself, a soft purring laugh, and a sudden wave of terror came over her at this beautiful and awful boy—he looked no more than a boy—whom she loathed and loved. To her there was something sinister and menacing in his saying that he must see a lot of Dennis, that a child’s character was determined by its early impression. What impressions would he feed Dennis with?...
“Oh, Colin,” she cried, clutching at his hand, “for God’s sake, let Dennis escape the curse of the legend. Don’t make him evil....”
Colin threw back his head and laughed aloud.