"You're never tired, are you?" he asked as a child might ask an elder.
"Very seldom," answered Martin, "I say, father, what is all this about Thurston?"
"Thurston ... Why, what's he been doing?"
"He says he's engaged to Amy." The disgust of the idea made Martin's words, against his will, sharp and angry.
"Does he? ... Yes, I remember. He spoke to me about it."
"Of course it's simply his infernal cheek ..."
Mr. Warlock sighed. "I don't know, I'm sure. Amy seemed to wish it."
Martin felt then more strongly than before the Something that drove him. It said to him: "Now, then ... here's a thing for you to make a row about—a big row. And then you can go off with Maggie." But, on the other hand, there was Something that said: "Don't hurt him. Don't hurt him. You may regret it all your life if ..."
If what? He didn't know. He was always threatened with regretting things all his life. The blow was always going to fall. And that pleasant very British phrase came back to him, "He would put his foot down"—however—he was very angry—very angry.
He burst out: "Oh, but that's absurd, father. Impossible—utterly. Thurston in the family? Why, you must see yourself how monstrous it would be. Amy's got some silly, sentimental whim and she's got to be told that it won't do. If you ask me, I don't think Amy's improved much since I was away. But that's not the question. The idea of Thurston's disgusting. You can't seriously consider it for a minute..."