“When he gets it he will do a sum. If it is less expensive in the long run to part with a little money and to be clear of the baby, he will part with it. If he would lose, he will adopt the tone of the loving father.”
“Dear, you’re shockingly cynical.” After a pause she added, “How would the sum work out?”
“I don’t know, I’m sure. But if you wanted to ensure the baby being posted by return, you should have sent a little sum to HIM. Oh, I’m not cynical—at least I only go by what I know of him. But I am weary of the whole show. Weary of Italy. Weary, weary, weary. Sawston’s a kind, pitiful place, isn’t it? I will go walk in it and seek comfort.”
He smiled as he spoke, for the sake of not appearing serious. When he had left her she began to smile also.
It was to the Abbotts’ that he walked. Mr. Abbott offered him tea, and Caroline, who was keeping up her Italian in the next room, came in to pour it out. He told them that his mother had written to Signor Carella, and they both uttered fervent wishes for her success.
“Very fine of Mrs. Herriton, very fine indeed,” said Mr. Abbott, who, like every one else, knew nothing of his daughter’s exasperating behaviour. “I’m afraid it will mean a lot of expense. She will get nothing out of Italy without paying.”
“There are sure to be incidental expenses,” said Philip cautiously. Then he turned to Miss Abbott and said, “Do you suppose we shall have difficulty with the man?”
“It depends,” she replied, with equal caution.
“From what you saw of him, should you conclude that he would make an affectionate parent?”
“I don’t go by what I saw of him, but by what I know of him.”