Adrian’s face relaxed and a more normal expression succeeded to the compelling one that had petrified his gaze.
“Adrian, my son, are you there?”
“Yes, father.”
“Dear lad, how thoughtless you are! Your sister is tired, and it is already very late. Finish your talk tomorrow, my dear ones.”
There was a pause.
Then Adrian said:
“Well, I suppose Time is on the wing, as usual. Good-night, Lucilla.”
He went out.
Lucilla heard the Canon bid him good-night, and his voice held profound sadness, rather than the vexation that she had feared.
She moved swiftly to the door.