“We’ll let you know if there’s anything to be done. Very much obliged to you, Lucian, and all that.”
Rose looked over her shoulder, her wide, scornful eyes passing over Ford and seeking Lucian only.
Walking past the stiff, narrow-chested figure at the door, he answered the wordless summons, and came.
VI
Rose, her hands tightly locked together, heard her son, a prisoner in the dock, plead Guilty on three counts to stealing goods to the total value of £60 from various college rooms.
She heard Maurice Lucian, his voice and his bearing alike schooled to professional impassivity, give testimony as to the boy’s instability of mind.
She heard Ford Aviolet, far less unmoved than the doctor, his slightly nasal voice low and indistinct, undertake on his father’s behalf that full restitution should be made, and the culprit “placed under proper restraint.”
At that Rose started forward, her hands clenched, but she made no sound.
She heard a clear, monotonous voice from the Bench:
“Have you anything to say, Aviolet?”