He glanced at her still smiling.
“You had better do what I tell you,” he said. “That’s right. How simple, isn’t it? Now what have you come about? It’s something tedious, I suppose. About your father, eh? Wasn’t he horrid at dinner? He made me blush for his dyed hair. Such a story! Awful for you and Aunt Margaret. Granny, too, at her age! And the servants.”
She looked at him again in silence, then dropped her eyes.
“I suppose it is your plan to make him tipsy every night,” she said, “until I tell him that he and my mother are not to come back here after their visit to Aix.”
Colin nodded at her with that sunny smile of his.
“Absolutely correct,” he said. “How well we understand each other, dear! And you’ve come here to tell me you’re going to be good, and do as you’re told. Is that it?”
“Yes. I can’t sit by and see my father as I saw him to-night. What do you want me to say to him?”
“Oh, just that. Say that you understand that he’ll be settling down in London for the autumn, or for ever and ever.... Just a little tact and pleasantness.”
“Colin, it’s awfully hard on him,” she said. “He and mother have practically lived here since their marriage.”
“Yes, darling: a nice long visit, as I said yesterday. He must put his name in the visitors’ book, Saturday, 1890, or whenever it was, till Monday, 1913. And though I don’t often criticize you, I must remind you that you shouldn’t always think of yourself.”