He did not love her. Brutally it came to that. Lady Mary must take the way she had herself appointed. She could not be asked to put away the work of her life in return for a worship that fed upon the air, or for a hunger that seized on a vanishing feast. Himself he felt entirely in her hands. He hoped to be forgiven, and accepted as the witness of her dedicated life. But he did not expect it, or make a claim.
He reached Curzon Street at ten o'clock, and found his mother returned from dining out. Mrs. Paragon now had her own friends. She quietly came and went, usually not asking how Peter fared. All his time was taken up with Lady Mary, and with Lady Mary she left the issue in perfect trust. But to-night she was startled from her assurance. Peter, unaware that he betrayed himself, had the face of a soul newly admitted to damnation.
"What has happened to you, Peter?" she asked.
"Nothing, mother."
She came to him where he had flung himself into a chair beside the fire.
"Has Lady Mary sent you away?"
Peter stared at her in amazement. He had never talked of Lady Mary. But he always accepted his mother's mysterious knowledge.
"She is soon to be married, mother."
"Lord Wenderby?"