"The maids are upstairs, dear. I'll go and get it myself."
As soon as she had left the room the girl seated herself on Ingram's knee and kissed him.
"What were you and mummy talking about?" she said, rubbing her lips after the kiss. "The hat's a bit in the way isn't it? I hate things in the way, don't you?"
"Not when I perceive them in time."
"Oh, but we aren't going to have any, are we, Paul? No difficulties—no quarrels—nothing horrid."
Ingram didn't answer her. Perhaps he was listening to those feet creeping, creeping up behind his shoulder.
So the months passed. When it was too late, Ingram tried to tell her what he should have told her at first. But Nelly would admit nothing—listen to nothing. She turned all the clouds inside out and bade him confine his attention to the silver lining. Upon the subject of her dancing ambitions she entered an unaccountable and fatal reserve, but there was nothing else in her life she did not share with him. Through whatever fringe of whatever society she happened to be adorning at the moment she dragged her lover gallantly. Fenella led captive was Fenella less dangerous, and the old popularity revived at the news of her attachment. Men liked Ingram, and he was thought "distinguished," "unusual," even in circles that called him "Crabbed Age" and "The Satyr" behind his back. (Besides, when were satyrs ever unpopular?) A few mothers held up shuddering hands, but the daughters, being of the new generation, only seized the occasion to preach the new evangel, and, generally, to cleanse and sterilize the imagination of eld. Speculation, in fact, having spent itself, accepted the situation; and by the time the long-planned foreign holiday arrived, her mother thought her "improved," "more thoughtful, and more womanly."
XIV
ALTHEA REES