“Oh, no! I’m sure they haven’t noticed anything at all. You know how stupid they are!”
Lucian smiled, at the very familiarity of the words and of Rose’s contemptuous tone.
“I didn’t mean here, so much as at school. Has Cecil made any friends?”
“I haven’t heard of any. There’s a master he likes, I think—a clergyman called Mr. Perriman. He’s quite young.”
“I wonder if Cecil will ‘get religion’?”
“Oh, I hope not!” cried Cecil’s mother with candid alarm. “I’ve seen enough of that with Uncle A. He’s the limit, him and his texts.”
“Cecil’s needn’t take that form. In fact I should say nothing would be less likely.”
“Well, what did you mean, then?”
“Only the sort of sudden awakening of religious susceptibilities that very often attacks young people. It’s an instinctive emotional outlet, really. They outgrow it, generally, or else it falls into its rightful place.”
“It seems to me more like a girl than a boy,” said Rose distrustfully.