"I don't know. She didn't see him take them, only me. She hadn't come to bed. She never said nothing to me—only about you."
"I don't expect," Jan made a great effort to
speak naturally, "that Daddie would care about my things ... It's different, you see."
"I'm glad I sleep here," Tony repeated, "and there's William only just across the passage."
CHAPTER XVI
"THE BLUDGEONINGS OF CHANCE"
THEY had been at Wren's End nearly three weeks, and sometimes Jan wondered if she appeared to Tony as unlike her own conception of herself as Tony's of his father was unlike what she had pictured him.
She knew Hugo Tancred to be dishonest, shifty, and wholly devoid of a sense of honour, but she had up till quite lately always thought of him as possessing a lazy sort of good-nature.
Tony was changing this view.
He was not yet at all talkative, but every now and then when he was alone with her he became frank and communicative, as reserved people often will when suddenly they let themselves go. And his very simplicity gave force to his revelations.