'No,' he said, correcting himself, 'it cannot be better, but as things have turned out, perhaps it is as well that there is no one at home listening too eagerly to the cry of the paper-boy when I am away.'
'You forget poor me,' said Mrs. Wylie merrily. She had a wonderful way of slipping round a grave subject.
'Not at all. But I should imagine that you generally look at the births, deaths, and marriages before studying the list of killed and wounded.'
'Invariably. I look upon you as a person eminently capable of taking care of himself. And I should hope that if there were anything wrong you would have the good grace to let me know before the penny papers shriek it forth to the world.'
'That sounds inconsistent.'
'Nevertheless, it is not so. I am not an anxious person, Theo. I never lie awake on stormy nights at Wyl's Hall and think of you—probably sleeping peaceably in tropic calms—but I like to hear occasionally of your movements, and I like to hear people talk of you, because I can say, "I know him"—that is all.'
'Then.... Brenda is wrong?' murmured Trist with a suggestion of relief in his manner.
'Yes, Brenda is wrong, because I am not your mother, and have no desire to pretend to that doubtful felicity. It is an honour which I distinctly decline.'
'I am sorry....'
'Oh, don't mention it. You are hardly to blame. But I imagine that you would make a very bad son.'