‘If father comes in, you will tell him before he goes into the study?’
‘Yes, I will.’
The fire in the study was on the point of extinction; this was the first thing Marian’s eye perceived on entering, and it gave her assurance that her father would not be back for some hours. Evidently he had intended it to go out; small economies of this kind, unintelligible to people who have always lived at ease, had been the life-long rule with him. With a sensation of gladness at having free time before her, Marian turned to where Milvain was standing, in front of one of the bookcases. He wore no symbol of mourning, but his countenance was far graver than usual, and rather paler. They shook hands in silence.
‘I am so grieved—’ Marian began with broken voice.
‘Thank you. I know the girls have told you all about it. We knew for the last month that it must come before long, though there was a deceptive improvement just before the end.’
‘Please to sit down, Mr Milvain. Father went out not long ago, and I don’t think he will be back very soon.’
‘It was not really Mr Yule I wished to see,’ said Jasper, frankly. ‘If he had been at home I should have spoken with him about what I have in mind, but if you will kindly give me a few minutes it will be much better.’
Marian glanced at the expiring fire. Her curiosity as to what Milvain had to say was mingled with an anxious doubt whether it was not too late to put on fresh coals; already the room was growing very chill, and this appearance of inhospitality troubled her.
‘Do you wish to save it?’ Jasper asked, understanding her look and movement.
‘I’m afraid it has got too low.’