"She can't believe I shall arrive at true eminence."
"A good wife should believe what her husband believes," said Mr. Carteret.
"Ah unfortunately"—and Nick took the words at a run—"I don't believe it either."
Mr. Carteret, who might have been watching an odd physical rush, spoke with a certain dryness. "Your dear father did."
"I think of that—I think of that," Nick replied.
"Certainly it will help me. If I say we're engaged," he went on, "it's because I consider it so. She gives me my liberty, but I don't take it."
"Does she expect you to take back your word?"
"That's what I ask her. She never will. Therefore we're as good as tied."
"I don't like it," said Mr. Carteret after a moment. "I don't like ambiguous, uncertain situations. They please me much better when they're definite and clear." The retreat of expression had been sounded in his face—the aspect it wore when he wished not to be encouraging. But after an instant he added in a tone more personal: "Don't disappoint me, dear boy."
"Ah not willingly!" his visitor protested.