He moved from the table into the big red velvet chair by the fire.
“Good, very good. And it’s a real home-coming. After all, this isn’t so very different from the old house.”
“It’s bigger,” said René.
His father turned and scanned him.
“I can hardly realize you yet, young man. Can’t allow for your growing up. Can only just trace the face I remember. Your nose has grown.”
“You used to have a mustache.”
“Yes. Shaved it off in America. Didn’t like Roosevelt.”
“Have you been to America?”
“Been the devil’s own dance, up and down America, North and South, Philippines, Malay Settlement—that’s Rangoon—China, back to America. Wonderful how you meet Thrigsby folk all over the world. Hundreds of young men everywhere who seem to have been at school with you and George. I’ve had enough. Want to settle down.”
“Like George.”