"Why shouldn't he?"
"He's really not at all strong, I believe. But I'll talk to Mark," repeated Edna.
Some subtle hint of complacency in her voice kept Sir Julian obstinately silent. He really did not know whether or not his wife's influence with Mark Easter was as strong as she assumed it to be. Mark was of all things easy-going, and Julian did not know that the question of his children preoccupied him very deeply. Not improbable that he might even sacrifice Ambrose and his problematical delicacy of constitution for the sake of peace, and the satisfaction of Lady Rossiter.
It remained to be seen, Julian thought, whether there were anything to which Mark attached sufficient importance to fight for it. Julian was oddly obsessed by the conviction that contest was in the air.
XVI
It was always felt that the great disappointment in connection with Iris Easter's wedding was the shock unconsciously caused by Mr. Douglas Garrett's father.
The representative of the Clan appeared in the guise of a stout, handsome old man with waxed moustache, in rather smart, tight, black clothes, wearing a top-hat, a white carnation buttonhole, and white spats, and speaking with an accent that, though exceedingly pronounced, was not to be recognised as that of any known part of Scotland.
The conviction gradually filtered through the assembled guests that Mr. Garrett senior spoke with the tongue of Swindon. The blurred vowels and resonant r were unmistakable.
But old Mr. Garrett made no pretence at the Keltic atmosphere so fondly affected by his son.
"My dearr boy," he affectionately apostrophised the bridegroom, "I've left the business to take cayurr of itself, for the first time in nearly twenty years. You don't know what business is, loafing about London doing a little scribbling heerr and therre the way you do, otherwise you'd appreciate my presence heerr to-day at its full value."