“A reasonable evening at last,” he said, “though I wouldn’t say that if Colin were here. I believe he got fresher and livelier every day. Ah, Raymond, you must know we’ve had some parties here. Colin took your place, as you had to be at Cambridge.”
Raymond tried to put into his answer the geniality he did not feel.
“I know,” he said. “The daily picture papers have been full of Colin. Are you having more people at Christmas, father?”
“No, just ourselves as usual.”
Raymond turned to Violet. “You had a fancy-dress ball last night, hadn’t you?” he said. “I could have got down yesterday if I had known.”
Philip conjectured a reproach in this and resented it. The last few weeks had been planned by him as “Colin’s show.” If Colin could not step into his shoes when he was dead, he could wear them for a week or two while he lived.
“I thought your term was not over till to-day,” he said.
“I could have got leave,” replied Raymond. “But I understand, father.”
Philip felt rising in him that ceaseless regret that Colin was not his first-born. And that jealousy of Colin, implied in Raymond’s “I understand” irritated his father. He wanted Colin to come and relieve the situation, as he always did.
“What exactly do you mean by that?” he asked.