"If I might consider ..." Arthur began, and was interrupted by the sound of the second gong booming through the house.
Mr Kenyon raised his head. "Well, well, Arthur, think it over, think it over," he said, getting to his feet. "I will only add now that it would be a great relief to me if you saw your way to accept my offer. Do not forget that side of it. And—we will have another talk to-morrow."
Arthur was aware of a new atmosphere at the dinner-table that night. For the first time since he had been in the house, the Kenyons were wide-awake and curious; the object of their curiosity was unquestionably himself. They seemed to be watching him. Whenever he looked up the table, he had the impression that one of them had just averted his or her eyes, and when he was talking to Elizabeth or Miss Kenyon, he was conscious of being under steady observation from every part of the table. Only Eleanor kept her eyes down, and to the best of his knowledge never once looked in his direction. Yet this new attitude towards him had no effect of being hostile. It was merely as if he had suddenly become an object of peculiar interest.
Even Miss Kenyon's manner was changed, although it was not until they were half-way through dinner that she put a direct question to him.
"You had your little talk with my father this evening?" she said then in a tone that sounded, he thought, a faint note of propitiation.
"Yes, I did; quite a long talk," he replied, feeling no inclination to make a confidante of Miss Kenyon.
"Has he asked you to prolong your visit to us?" she went on, making a more direct attack. "I hope you may be able to stay over the next week-end in any case."
"Thanks very much, I should like to immensely," Arthur returned. "Yes, Mr Kenyon did suggest something of the sort. In fact...."
"Well!" Miss Kenyon prompted him with a touch of asperity.
"Oh! well, in fact he made a kind of proposal to me that we are going to discuss again to-morrow," Arthur admitted.