"Certainly," he answered. Then he turned to his brother. "I hope, Garrett," he said, "that you do not feel as strongly about the matter as Clare. I should be very glad if you found it possible to remain."
That gentleman was in a difficult position; he changed colour and tried to avoid his sister's eyes. After a rapid survey of the position, he had come to the conclusion that he would not be nearly as comfortable in Norfolk—he could not write his book as easily, and the house had scarcely the same position of importance. He had grown fond of the place. Harry, after all, was not a bad chap—he seemed very anxious to be pleasant; and even Mary Bethel mightn't turn out so badly.
"You see, Clare," he said slowly, "there is the book—and—well, on the whole, I think it would be almost better if I remained; it is not, of course, that——"
Clare's lip curled scornfully.
"I understand, Garrett, you could scarcely be expected to leave such comforts for so slight a reason. And you, Robin?"
She held the chair with her hand as she spoke. The fury at her heart was such that she could scarcely breathe; she was quite calm, but she had a mad desire to seize Harry as he sat there at the table and strangle him with her hands. And Garrett!—the contemptible coward! But if only Robin would come with her, then the rest mattered little. After all, it had only been a fortnight ago when he had stood at her side and rejected his father. The scene now was parallel—her voice grew soft and trembled a little as she spoke to him.
"Robin, dear, what will you do? Will you come with me?"
For a moment father and son looked at each other, then Robin answered—
"I shall be very glad to come and stay sometimes, Aunt Clare—often—whenever you care to have me. But I think that I must stay here. I have been talking to father and I am going up to London to try, I think, for the Diplomatic. We thought——"
But the "we" was too much for her.