“You dear boy! That’s just the very nicest thing you could have said to me. I love young people, and it’s always been a disappointment to me that I didn’t have ten children. You see. I had to adopt two as it was! Rosamund is a dear child, Morris, and I’ve loved her as much as though she were my own.”
She suddenly sighed, and some unexplained instinct made Morris exclaim rather defensively:
“And of course she adores you. I’m sure of that.”
“Ah well, my dear boy, one doesn’t expect very much. The thing I care most about is that they should be good and happy and keep well. Which reminds me that I must go and see after my poor little invalid. But, Morris, I do want to ask you one thing, if you’ll remember that I’m an old woman and not get angry with me.”
She paused a minute and he cried eagerly:
“Of course, you can ask anything you like. You know that.”
“I really believe I can, you’re so reasonable. Well, Morris, I don’t want to know what’s passed between you and Rosamund, though I rather fancy that little tableau vivant that I came across in the hall this morning wasn’t strictly within the rules, but I do ask you not to let things go any further for the present. Rosamund is going up to Scotland with me in ten days’ time, which will make things easier, but I want you to show a man’s self-control and see less of her than you have been doing lately.”
Morris looked his consternation.
“Why don’t you go away altogether, if that is the only way, and come back again after we’re safe out of the way?”
She did not give him time to reply, but rose, and began walking back to the house.