The next morning Philip came to breakfast so late that even his indulgent mother had forsaken the table after leaving directions to "have things kept hot for Mr. Philip, and some fresh coffee made for him."
When he had eaten a rather slender meal he sought his mother's sitting-room.
"Aunt Callender called last night, I hear. She must have had something to say, or she would hardly have persuaded herself to leave her sewing so long."
"She came to tell me of Phillida's engagement," said Mrs. Gouverneur, looking at Philip furtively as she spoke.
"I supposed that was it."
"Did you know it, then?"
"Oh, Charley Millard told me last night. These lucky fellows always take it for granted that you'll rejoice in all their good fortune; they air their luck before you as though it were your own." He was looking out of the window at the limited landscape of Washington Square.
"I'm sorry you feel bad about it," said his mother.
Philip was silent.
"I never dreamed that you had any special attachment for Phillida," said Mrs. Gouverneur.