Nothing.
Her first words instantly dispelled what had many aspects of his last hope for peace. “It is surprising to me that you could go up to the children; but I suppose we must all be glad to have you pay attention to them at any time.” This minor development he succeeded in avoiding. “I have been thinking hard,” she continued, “and I have made up my mind about you; it is this—you just simply have to be different. I won't let you, us, stay like this. It is hideous.”
“You are quite right,” he admitted; “and I have already agreed that the change must principally be in me. If you'd explain it to me, what you have decided on, we'll find out, if possible, how to go about it.”
“At least you needn't be sarcastic,” she replied; “I am not as impossible as you make out. You will have to be different at home—”
“I thought it was outside home you objected to.”
“It's one and the same,” she went on; “and I won't have them, it, a minute longer. Not a minute! You have got to behave yourself.”
“You haven't been very definite yet.”
“Mrs. Grove—Savina,” she flung back at him.
“That is a name and not a fact.”