She herself wrote every few days to Nicholas, and in reply received short letters, indited upon Club notepaper, informing her that he was very busy, or that he had gone past their house, that the exterior painting seemed to be getting on well, that he hoped she was feeling stronger, and would not hurry back to town just yet, the more especially as workmen were still in the house. He was always her devoted husband.
Lily divined haste in the notes, as well as the affectionate feeling that was part of Nicholas. She wrote and told him that Kenneth was to come home in a week's time, and that she should like to await his arrival. Her husband's answer was one of cordial acquiescence, and then he wrote no more for several days.
Lily, as usual, found Kenneth everything that she herself had never dared to be.
He had spent most of his holidays with friends, about whom he vouchsafed the scantiest particulars to his family.
"A fellow I know," or "One of the chaps at the place where I've just been staying," said Kenneth, or, more non-committally still, "Somebody or other that one came across somewhere or other."
"I should like to hear something about this visit of yours, my boy," said Philip, in tones that unwittingly suggested a strong sense of suspiciousness.
"Oh, it was all right."
"So I suppose—so I suppose," Philip laughed rather nervously. "Had it not been 'all right,' as you express it, no doubt I should have been informed. But we've not been told very much about your amusements, or about your young friends themselves. Your school-fellow's father is—or rather was, a good many years ago—an acquaintance of mine, as you know. Besides, my dear boy, I like to know something about the sort of people with whom you're friendly."
Philip's voice had become rebukeful.
"Oh, they're all right," said Kenneth.