“Eugene. It’s true, isn’t it, Faith?”
“I have no wish to discuss the matter,” said Faith stiffly.
Conrad paid not the smallest attention to her, saying in an incredulous tone: “Go on, Bart! Cliff wouldn’t have him!”
“Well, you can ask the Guv’nor, if you don’t believe me,” yawned Bart, selecting another split from the plate, and consuming it in two mouthfuls.
“Good lord, he must have blackmailed old Cliff into it!” said Conrad. An unwelcome thought occurred to him; he added with foreboding: “I say, does it mean that we shall have Clay living here, year in, year out?”
“That’s the idea,” nodded Bart.
“Christ!” exclaimed his twin, in shattered accents.
Faith flushed angrily, but as she knew Conrad too well to suppose that he would attend to any remonstrances from her, she pretended to be listening to what Myra was saying to Clara.
“I must say, I should have thought there were more than enough people living here already,” remarked Vivian, getting up to take Eugene’s empty cup from him, and carrying it to Clara to be replenished.
“Thank you, my sweet,” he murmured. “Not quite so much milk this time, please, Aunt Clara. I do wish you would move away from the fire, Ingram; I am feeling very chilly, and I got up with the suspicion of a cold in my head this morning.”