IX
It was the second week in January when Martin went down to The Steading: he merely stayed to collect books and clothes and returned at once to London. While he was there he told his uncle and aunt that he was engaged to be married.
That night John Berrisford discussed the matter with his wife. "Well," he began, "what about our young Martin?"
"I suppose it's all right," said Mrs Berrisford quietly. "He's very young, but that seems to be the fashion nowadays."
"Yes, that doesn't matter. Long engagements are tragic, unhealthy things, but they'll be apart and he ought to be able to marry almost at once. Quite a lot of civilians do."
"And she's quite a nice girl."
John Berrisford gave the slight wriggle of the shoulders for which we have only the excessive word "shrug."
"Don't you approve?" added his wife.
"Yes and no. On the whole, no." He kicked at the fire testily. "She's quite a nice girl and clever and reasonable beyond the average. If Martin were going to hang about in town, well and good. But really is she the wife of an Indian Civilian?"